


Seattle Love Story

by lovingtimetravelexpert



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Curious Archer - Freeform, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Mad Archer, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-05-14 00:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovingtimetravelexpert/pseuds/lovingtimetravelexpert
Summary: Love Upon a WonderlandRobin Mills, 22 years old, living in Seattle, stands at a crossroads in her life. Having a dysfunctional mother-daughter-relationship, a so far unused college degree and her cousin's couch to sleep on, might not mark the best position in her life. Accompanying said cousin to an art exhibition does not seem very promising either. Little does she know that she will run into somebody who will rock her world very, very soon.Alice Jones has finally made it! Her path is not about running away from the prison which has been her home in the UK. Not any longer! For the first time since leaving her country and moving to Seattle she is truly chasing her dreams. Due to a turn of events the best day of her life might become even more beautified - literally. Apparantly, happy accidents do exist!





	1. The Art of Running Away

 

_Will you come to dinner today? - Love, Mum._

She sighed and worried her lip for a moment, reading the message, which was displayed on the screen of her cell phone, over and over again, until the digits faded and she only saw black lines on a white background. The words stayed with her, taken in by her eyes, swirling through her mind and dropping through her throat, across her heart into her stomach where they rested like a painful knot of resentment, disappointment and longing.

“Miss!” Someone before her called.

Irritated Robin rose her gaze from her phone towards the ticket guy, who talked to her.

“I'm sorry, Miss. No cell phones allowed,” he said.

She sighed. Seriously?

Could this day get any worse?

Not that it had started bad.

It had been a regular day so far. She had been awake at the first beep of the alarm and up to press the button on the prepared coffee maker before going to take a shower even before her roommate had shown any sign of life.

Robin was the kind of girl who dove into stuff head first. She did not linger on second thoughts, did not dwell on misgivings and she certainly did not let anything come into her way; on rare occasions something did, she just ran over it.

But she was also a human being with a beating heart and enough compassion – she had left her bitchy days from high school behind her at some point during college – as to not let her roommate down on visiting this exhibition together.

After his recent break-up with Ella he had opted for destroying the tickets but Robin had talked him into going anyway, which had led him to ask if she wanted to tag along and Robin had not been able to say “No” which in the end had brought her here: Waiting next to Henry for the doors to the exhibition to open and being told to put her phone away by some guy wearing a too tight shirt and definitely too much gel in his hair. One glance was enough for Robin to conclude that he must have barely tripped over the threshold of puberty.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, preventing her eyes from rolling, and stuffed the phone into the pocket of her brown leather jacket.

It was for the better anyway.

The longer she held the phone in her hand the more would she be trapped in the question of to answer or not to answer. This way the problem would sort out itself. By the time they would leave this thing, it would be too late to go back to the apartment to change and then cross half of Seattle to get home – or rather the place she had called home until a few months ago before she had started crashing on her cousin Henry's couch.

“You really didn't have to come,” Henry said to her, retrieving scheme A of the book about making awkward conversation.

She looked at him from the side. He had his hands buried in his pockets and was looking up ahead. But she noticed the slump in his shoulder and the deep line carved between his eyebrows and the way strands of his dark hair had fallen out of place. Sympathizing, she gave him a crooked smile, “Would you have went alone?”

“No, probably not,” her cousin mumbled lowly.

“Then I did have to save you from mopping over a blinking cursor on a blank screen,” Robin retorted.

“Thanks,” Henry said with a forced smile.

Forced but it was a smile nevertheless. She was satisfied for now and nudged him into the side with an elbow and a grin, “You're welcome, roomie.”

He had been miserable these last few weeks because of the harsh breakup. Had stayed up late to write and to produce nothing in the end. Had slept as late as he could in regard to his job and had started to suck on his radio story, which had been actually kinda good before.

But Robin was fairly sure Henry and Ella would get back together. They were one of those couples that went off and on again but in the end were kinda endgame. They just needed to stop tiptoeing around each other. Not that Robin had a great relationship record. She just hadn't found the one person who'd make her want to make a fool out of herself the way Henry did. Who the hell writes themselves into their own novel anyway?

He was a great guy, though. His problems with Ella came from her fear of commitment based on the whole abandonment story with her mother and his geeky and hesitant nature.

For what it was worth, Robin did not mind accompanying him to this lame exhibition, if it brought some of his spirit back.

Though, she started to wonder, when they would open the goddamn doors. This was just an art exhibition not a royal gala.

Bored Robin looked around, her gaze fell onto the banner in graffiti style, announcing the  _Artists of Tomorrow_ _presented by the_ _Center on Contemporary Art_. Her face scrunched up, having no idea whatsoever about art. She could only imagine what she would have to deal with. A pot of dying flowers being sold as art? Blots of color described as “postmodern”? Who knew?

Second by second she grew more and more tired of waiting and rocked back and forth on the heels of her boots. Under her breath she grumbled, “When is this thing opening up?”

“Relax, it's been just a few minutes,” Henry replied.

Even so it felt like hours. Not being excited about this so-called event was not making the wait any easier.

She let her gaze wander over the line of people up front. Couples, groups but nobody interesting caught her sight. Glancing over her shoulder she did not see anything of interest either. That was until she spotted a wild mop of golden blonde hair bouncing around. Surprised she observed the movement and finally noticed that the person the blonde mop belonged to was doing the same thing she had done a minute ago: Rocking back and forth on her heels, only with more energy put into the motion.

Robin's lips curled and she leaned to the side to see the face of the person a few feet down the row. She wasn't lucky, though, because before she was able to unravel the mystery, Henry startled her out of her private investigation. “Here we go,” he told her. The only further impression Robin got of the blonde mop were black army boots and leggings and a red shirt, before she turned away again.

“Great, let the games begin,” Robin drawled and fell into the slow steps of the row moving towards the entrance.

“Don't be so grim about it,” Henry said while squeezing past an arguing couple, wrinkling his red, checked shirt against the brawny guy's denim jacket. “Who knows? Maybe you'll find you have a secret thing for art. Some of the pieces exhibited here were called to be the most promising artwork of this decade by the press.”

“Because we know the press is always telling the truth,” Robin stated mockingly, burying her hands in the pockets of her denim.

“In every fairy tale lies truth,” Henry countered in a slow, mystefying tone while they entered the actual building and held up both their tickets.

“And you should know that, 'cause you're the author of a selling book,” Robin teased, while shoving the ticket the security handed back to her with its now torn off edge into the back pocket of her pants.

“Exactly!” Henry cheered with a big smile.

Chuckling, Robin quickly mapped the room in her mind. It was a large, former industry hall, now used to showcase artwork. Maybe this was art itself? She didn't know.

When a waitress walked by, who carried a tray filled with flutes, Robin grabbed two. Holding one out for Henry she said, “Just point me through the good stuff and we'll see about my undiscovered love for art.”

It was save to say Robin was no big fan of art. She never understood the deal about standing in front of a painting and look at it for minutes without blinking an eye. It wasn't her idea of entertainment. Action was more suitable to her style.

But, to be honest, she had to admit there was something alluring about the echo of numerous steps of a bunch of people droning through the hall, about the carton walls erected in certain forms displaying the pieces of art and the sparkling wine fizzing away, while Henry led her through the exhibition, providing some sort of helpful information and insight to art styles and structures.

There was a lot to see.

Puzzles of styles, old and new, mosaics of paintings, missing spots, frames without canvas, canvas without frames – there was no clear threat in the composition. Though, maybe that was the threat.

Some of the stuff was not bad at all and Robin became less opposed the more she saw.

While emptying her flute she let her gaze wander over the art pieces, when all of a sudden one of them captured her full attention. 

Transfixed Robin stopped in front of one painting hidden in some kind of maze-like structure of carton walls in the middle of the hall. The painting did not seem modern at all, neither the way it was painted nor the subject: a sailing ship caught in the storming sea. She heard Henry say something about revived romanticism as her eyes took in the picture, the rough strokes forming waves and clouds, the detailed lines of the ship, threatened to be swallowed by the rage of the scary and dark sea. It was a harsh scene. And yet, Robin felt a sense of longing transmitted by the picture which nested in her own heart.

Was it because of the colors? The shades? She had no idea.

When she noticed Henry's voice drifting away, she tore her gaze from the painting and let it flee over the tag beneath before she followed him as he continued his walk through the maze.

Robin was less focused on what he said, though, still trying to figure out the yearning in her heart that had been caused by the picture. She felt strangely allured to the words on the tag and they resounded in her mind, 'A. Jones, _Captain's Call._ (Oil on linen.)' She could not explain why on earth she would be so encaptured by an old-fashioned painting of a ship. She did not even like boats. Hated them, actually, thanks to her seasickness.

After a while Henry seemed to have caught up on her change of mood when he turned away from the exhibited paintings and bumped his shoulder into hers, startling her out of her inner debate. “So your phone earlier, was that Aunt Zelena?”

Robin immediately frowned at the mention of her mom but recovered quickly. 

“She wanted to know if I'd come to dinner tonight,” she told Henry as offhandedly as her voice allowed it regarding the subject, despite it being pointless to feint coolness. Henry knew the reasons of her argument with her mom, all the little details of the dirty and old secret that their family had tried to hide for years and he knew how trying the circumstances were for Robin.

“Will you?” He raised an eyebrow at her as they continued their stroll through the maze and circled around visitors.

“And miss this?” With a smirk Robin nodded to the side, roughly the direction of one of the carton walls. She buried her hands into the pockets again but couldn't suppress the nervous wiggle of her thumbs.

“Robin,” Henry breathed out.

Robin sighed and stopped walking. While he had been very understanding since the evening she had knocked on his door with bloodshot eyes and a traveling bag, Henry had also, more than once, tried to go Freud on her and aimed to talk her into resolving things with her mom. Facing him fully now to make her point clear, she told him, “Look, I know you're older. You don't have to give me any speeches. I will face my demons in time. I'm just not ready yet.”

“Okay, I get it,” he raised his hands signaling his willingness for a truce and they picked up their stroll again.

And that should have been it.

In a perfect world where everybody said what they were supposed to say when they were supposed to say it, the conversation would have been over. The world was not perfect, though. Her very own mother was a testament to this fact. And so Robin couldn't let it go as the topic rekindled her anger and hurt from her mom's behavior. After a few more steps she pointed out, “You would feel the same way, if it was the other way around.”

“Which is impossible because my mom adopted me,” he replied, sarcasm dropping from his voice before he skipped her a sympathetic smile and gave her a pat onto the shoulder. “But you know, their feud has been long over, they made up and you should learn to forgive your mom, too, like mine did.”

As if it was that easy.

Maybe in a perfect world it would have been. She would text back her mom that she'd be at home in time for dinner, settle with whatever apology or excuse her mom would lay out for her and go to sleep on her comfy mattress instead of a worn out couch in the kitchen-cum-living room of a semi-successful author. But then again, in a perfect world there wouldn't have been a reason for her to run away either.

Here she was: 22 years old, a dysfunctional mother-daughter-relationship, a college degree but no clear prospect what she would do with it, her cousin's couch to sleep on and no idea where she would go from here.

Robin never dwelt on misgivings. But sometimes their extent was too massive to ignore.

She swallowed hard against the strain on her throat. Skipping her gaze down to the empty flute, she decided to catch a breath of fresh air. “I need a refill. Want some?”

“No, I'm good,” Henry said with his fawn colored eyes dropping but, thankfully, he said no more, letting her follow the escape route she desperately needed right now.

She marched through the maze, finding the exit easily thanks to the arrows sprayed to the ground. They were pieces of art on their own but, right now, Robin couldn't seem to care less about that.

She sighed and rounded the last corner.

It was just her luck that as she was about to leave the maze, she crashed into something – or rather someone based on how soft the hindrance felt.

Cold liquid splashed over her favorite green shirt.

Shocked, she gasped out, “What the hell?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) The exhibition mentioned is fictional but the _Center of Contemporary Art (CoCA)_ does exist in Seattle.
> 
> 2) About the characters: I wanted Henry and Robin interactions! They were raised by the sassiest women in the OUAT universe and there is a lot of potential in their interactions. Also, while I did not see the chemisty between Jacinda and Henry on the show, I have nothing against the pairing. Their on and off vibe is inspired by their relationship in Hyperion Heights.
> 
> 3) Besides indulging in my obsession for our favorite couple I use this fic to experiment with writing style. Usually I write in American English. But I am trying to find different voices for Robin and Alice in their respective parts, which also means differentiating between American and British English. I don't know if it is weird because the norm says texts have to be restricted to one and can never be both but to me it makes no sense to write Alice inner voice in American English. Not in this AU at least. So down with convention! XD Feedback on this would be a heaven-sent, though, especially from native speakers. ;P
> 
> 4) After the way the show ended I struggle with my original idea on how to continue a follow-up to "Deliver the Message". I will have to sort out certain points and rethink stuff. In the meantime I will work on this AU. Hope you don't mind. By the way, I liked the ending of OUAT. This is the first time an OTP of mine survived in a fantasy drama. ~~(I've led a very sad life. XD Kidding.)~~ The prospect of them getting married is the cherry on top!^^


	2. City of Goodwill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the best day in Alice's life: Her art is finally exhibited and today is the exhibition's opening day. She has not expected the sudden turn of events but from her point of view they look very attractive.
> 
> Note: Like I said at the end of the last chapter, the writing is different to Robin's part. Alice's part is written in British English. So if you're used to American English only, just remember words are differently written and sometimes used in other ways. Pavement, for instance, refers to the sidewalk in British English and not to the asphalt. Waiting queue means waiting line; screw up paper means scrunch up paper, etc. There aren't any huge difference and most things are self-explanatory, though.

 

She was going to be late.

'Late. So late,' she chanted inside her head.

Picking up her pace, Alice stomped her army boots onto the pavement.

Stone tiles were patched up in a symmetrical cluster; like a grey chessboard, sparkling with a yellowish shimmer thanks to the burning summer sun. Green trees lined up next to the pavement and cast their shadows on the checked surface, becoming figurines of the game.

Walking above the board she was a figurine now, too! Her red bottom-up shirt was swirling in the wind behind her. Like a flag of truce. Her brown skirt limited the length of her moves; restricted her play.

Above them all towered the blue and sunny sky.

Every moment was a picture. Millions of still lives following one another.

Alice saw the colours. All the colours in between.

Her papa used to say, she saw the world in a special way.

Perhaps that was the truth. Perhaps it was the reason how she got here. How she had fallen in love with drawing and painting. How she had ended up in Seattle to pursue her own path and indulge her gift.

A grin spread on her face. She wasn't running away. She was chasing her dreams. And today she would catch up.

Alice was happy! Chuffed to bits!

The moment she had hoped would come was finally here!

After everything she had been through, she arrived at a point in her life where she could be proud of herself. Every stepping stone she had stumbled over turned out to be a brick on the road that had led her here to this particular day.

The sole thing that was amiss was her papa because he could not share this moment with her. But she would surely write him and report him everything about her big day in every tiny bit.

Alice couldn't wait to see her art exhibited in a gallery! Granted, it was one painting among many others of lots of talented artist. It was a step of success, nonetheless. One she could and would rejoice.

There was a spring in her steps as she walked down the 6th towards the place, destiny had led her to.

'Where the future awaits,' she thought cheerfully and ignored the frowns and stares sent her way. It was her day and nobody could take it away from her or dim the experience because Alice Jones had made it.

Finally, finally made it.

She wasn't imprisoned inside a small village in the UK. She wasn't painting one scenery after another, all of which she would never get to witness for real. She wasn't the lonesome girl coming to the US without any connections and who received more rejections than assurances. She wasn't trapped inside the cage, titled  _hopelessness_.

Not any longer.

She was Alice Jones, a woman with hope, with a future and a name-tag pinned beneath her painting at an exhibition.

A bloody dream had come true!

The  _Artists of Tomorrow_  exhibition presented by the  _Center on Contemporary Art_ was her chance to carve a name for herself. The  _CoCA_  of Seattle, one of the most iconic arts organizations of the US, according to their résumé, had accepted her art despite its lack in innovation or its too traditional style that it had been accused of by many others.

Back when she left her home to seek her freedom, she had not been prepared for the setbacks she would have to deal with. The British girl who dreamt to see the world outside of her small village had taken her first steps of liberty in the huge city of Seattle with the only things backing her up being a flight ticket and an art scholarship. One of the first things she'd learned was, that even in a place brimming with possibilities one could be captured in a loop of failures and that even in a city flooded with people one could be all alone.

To most people she met she was a strange stranger. It had made her miss her papa even more. So much that at times, she wished she'd never have left him. If it hadn't been for his persistence for her to follow her dream of becoming an artist, she might never have. But now she was glad she did. Taking this risk had brought her here: On her way to the exhibition.

When the industry hall with a crowd gathered in front eventually captured her sight, Alice grinned.

It was premiere day of the exhibition which would continue for a month. But even on the first day people wanted to see the art she and other artists had created. Perhaps some would even drop offers.

Surprisingly she even had made it here before the gates opened. Hanging out in the nearby park while tracing the shades of the clouds might not have been her best idea. But time was always slipping away no matter how deep one got stuck into it. So in Alice's opinion it was better to pull the reins than becoming tamed.

Alice joined the queue, although she would have rather loved to jump it. She had no idea if the artists were supposed to simply go in. Was she allowed to head straight to the entrance? She had a pass for the whole duration of the exhibition. But it was probably wiser to stay put. She did not want to cause a furore.

Yet, despite her best intentions it did not take long for her to get impatient. Nagging on her lips and bobbling back and forth, she glanced around the queue.

She froze when her eyes caught sight of a woman up front. Dark blonde hair – some might say brunette – draped over the right shoulder like a curtain of silk, perfectly shaped face, high cheekbones, rosy lips; but what stood out were the eyes.

Alice had seen them for the fraction of a second before the woman had turned away. A still life of olive green orbs like she had never seen them before. But this fraction of a second had shook her. Moved something inside her.

It was a colour in between. A colour she saw for the first time. Her first instinct was to run up to the woman and look into her eyes again. To make sure this colour was genuine.

She stopped herself from doing so. People usually did not appreciate her unleashed enthusiasm. They used to call her dotty and weird.

Suddenly something pushed against her back.

A man had walked into her as the queue had started moving. Falling into step with the motion, Alice lost sight of the woman as she vanished through the entrance.

Alice blinked the remaining vision away. Was it possible, that she had imagined it? Had she seen a colour where there was another? Like she used to see lines and shades in places they really didn't exist?

Her enthusiasm crumbled for a bit. But merely on the surface like a thick splodge of paint cracking. Because, in the instant she entered the building, she was sucked into the world of art and it was amazing.

Pieces of art lined up like snippets of stories. A million versions of hundreds of stories mirrored in the tints and hues crossed by shading and highlighted by spots of light. And in front of the stage spectators swirling around, becoming actors of the play themselves.

A fascinating spectacle!

Alice cheered inwardly and moved among them, taking it all in like the director of a film, crucial for a scene but invisible in the end.

She observed the smiles, the shrugs, the tired shuffles and impatient strides.

Her eyes feasted on the art moulding the background – lines, dots, shapes forming a world of colours.

She was absorbed by the scenery. Too absorbed, perhaps. She almost forgot the drink served to her at the beginning. As she turned into the place the organisers had named playfully  _The Infinite Maze_ , where she knew her own painting was on display, she brought the glass absent-mindedly to her lips.

It did not get there.

Suddenly she crashed into something and stumbled backwards. “Woah!”

“What the hell?” A female voice countered breathlessly.

Recovering her balance Alice lifted her blinking gaze.

Shocked, she gasped when she recognized the olive green eyes beneath furrowed eyebrows.

It was the woman from before! Again she did not meet her eyes but glanced down to her green shirt which bore a huge wet stain. Her rosy lips were opened in puzzlement.

Oh, no...

Alice should have looked ahead to see where she was going! Really, really should have looked ahead!

Gosh, sometimes having her head in the clouds carried her feet too far. No wonder people called her mad.

Her nerves kicked in. Driven by guilt she started blabbering, “I am sorry! Are you alright? I am so sorry, this was entirely my fault. I didn't watch where I was going and I had raised my glass to take a sip and then you came around the corner and I am so, so sorry. I did not mean to do that.”

Pressing her lips shut she watched the woman with widened eyes.

The green eyed woman did not say anything but stared back agape. After a while her lips started to curl and she huffed in surprise. Almost... pleasantly?

“Can I make it up to you somehow?” Alice tried again tilting her head and furrowing a concerned brow.

“It's okay. Shirt will dry on its own,” the green eyed woman replied with a modest shrug. Her expression was caught between a confused frown and an amused smirk.

Alice could not say why but somehow she wanted to see it tilt into the later one. She wanted to properly apologize and see the woman smirk. It was a hunch but she was certain that smile would kindle a flame in those eyes. A new colour in between to discover.

For some reason the colouration defining this woman was more significant to Alice than seeing her own painting again.

She could come visit another time, right?

“No, I mean it,” Alice lifted her hands in a welcoming gesture. Or so she hoped. “Let me treat you to a drink or a meal or something.”

The woman released a puff of air and threw a glance back over her shoulder before she smiled back at Alice more brightly, “Sure, why not? I was leaving anyway.”

“Great!” Alice cheered and turned around with an excited jump. After a few steps she looked back to see, if the woman truly followed.

She did! Her face was still a mask of amusement and puzzlement. Perhaps she was an investigative person trying to figure Alice out. She would need to have good luck with that. Many had tried, Alice herself included. Most of them failed, Alice included.

“Where to?” Alice chirped, while trying not to stare into the woman's eyes as they left the building beside each other and came to a stop after passing their empty flutes to one of the waiters.

“Ehm,” The woman chuckled but looked even more confused, “Shouldn't we do introductions first? My name's Robin. Robin Mills.”

“Right, I forgot about that!” Alice exclaimed and held out a hand towards Robin Mills. “I'm Alice Jones. Pleasure to meet you, Robin Mills.”

Robin Mill's hand slipped over hers, embracing her fingers in a firm and warm handshake and impressing Alice with the power vibrating beneath the tender skin. Alice was more used to flimsy shaking.

Eyebrows moved up, shaping into perfectly formed crescents above round, green coloured eyes. “Wait, are you A. Jones? Captain's Call, oil on linen?”

Surprised Alice stared into these green – no, moss, no, definitely olive green – eyes.

Her thoughts got muddled up. They were never aligned in the first place. However, right now they were a tangled mess.

Overwhelmed she stuttered, “Pardon?”

“Your painting inside the maze, I saw it,” the woman, named Robin, replied soberly. The way she talked, pronouncing syllables in quick jabs, echoed with confidence.

A confidence that resounded in Alice and shook her to the core.

Mesmerised she stared at the other woman. A smile born from disbelief formed on her face. “You memorised the title?”

“I,” Robin huffed before giving her a crooked smile and a little shrug, “I liked it.”

She stated this as if it was not a big deal. But it was! To Alice it was a huge deal! For what seemed like forever somebody had commented on her art without her having to ask for it. And memorising the title was a terrific compliment.

Alice eyes ran over Robin's form, from her soft looking brown leather jacket to the form-fitting denim trousers and back upwards to the green shirt which complimented the colour of her eyes.

Eyes which belonged to a perfectly sculptured face. Robin Mills was even more beautiful up close.

Warmth filled Alice's cheeks. Her eyes unintentionally travelled to the wet stain, right above the other woman's bosom and rounding a perfectly shaped breast.

Alice flinched when she realised where her mind had directed her wandering eyes.

Ashamed she tore her gaze away and looked up to see Robin already waiting to meet her eyes.

Oh, dear!

There was no way she had not seen Alice peek.

Obviously having been caught, Alice felt the heat creeping over her neck now, too. Worried she nibbled on her lower lip and bounced back and forth on her heels as she observed the other woman's reaction. But other than the dismay and disapproval she had faced in her home village, whenever she had blushed like this because of a girl, Alice was now gazing into crinkled eyes, a misted green, accompanied by a confident smirk and a head tilted slightly upwards, virtually in challenge.

Taking in a sharp breath, Alice tried to recover from the rush of heat that was settling down in her chest and mumbled, “Thank you. That is always nice to hear.”

This time her eyes shied away from the contact, unsteady from the roll of thunder inside her breast. She pushed a stubborn strand of blonde hair behind her ear before she reminded herself why she left the exhibition with this lovely person in the first place.

Skipping her eyes over their surroundings Alice tried to figure out where to take a fanciable woman like Robin Mills.

This district was not the most attractive in Seattle, even though there were green spaces scattered everywhere, trees squeezed in every possible space. The buildings, however, were unappealing. Too big, too practical, too heartless.

Alice worried her lips. Hating to admit that she did knew little about Seattle, she jumped on the first idea that crossed her mind, “How about hot dogs? Up north there are some places towards CenturyLink Field. I haven't tried them all, but there are a few I can vouch for.”

“Lead the way, painter girl.” Robin's smirk was a curve drawn with secret promises and Alice could not help herself but smile in return.

She liked the idea of Robin letting her into her secrets.

The smile remained stuck on her face as she started leading Robin towards their destination.

Alice knew the best spot to take the other woman and headed north while minding her steps for her new acquaintance to keep up with her. She was aware how her euphoria and temper sometimes was too much for people. However, looking at the taller woman, she was pleasantly surprised to see Robin Mills could not only keep up but adjust her own purposeful strides to Alice's bouncing steps.

“So, are you a Seahawks fan or how do you know all about Seattle's most finest hot dogs south to their home?” Robin asked after a few moments of silence.

“Seahawks? Why should I be interested in seahawks?” Alice asked, confused about what birds had to do with hot dogs before she remembered the name from reading the newspaper's sport section, “Ah, no, not a fan. I work at a hat shop in the 1st and during lunch break I usually come here.”

When she looked into olive green eyes she saw them brimming with merriment, deepening the green dots and lines among the greyish, pale spots. “That's a shame,” their owner commented. “You should really come and see one of their games.”

Excitement, prompted by that look, rushed through Alice. “Do you like American football?”

Robin chuckled blithely and it was one of the best sounds Alice had ever heard. “We just call it football. But yes, I do. Though, I prefer doing the sport myself instead of watching it.”

“What kind of sport do you do?” Alice inquired, eager to learn more about the beautiful American woman who had liked her painting.

“Archery, mostly. Used to work out a bit, mainly running, but that's a thing from the past,” Robin said shrugging and lowering her gaze to the ground.

“Archery sounds amazing,” Alice grinned, having no trouble to picture Robin with a bow and arrow. Like a female version of Robin Hood, perhaps. Middle aged leather outfit, hair braided back and a long bow in hand with an expression full of self esteem. Eyes like steel but covered with a gentle green coating with amber and grey specks like honey and misty crystals.

The image became clear in her head and send fuzzy chills up and down her spine. Blinking it away she looked at the real Robin who smiled at her gently, her pinkish lips curved at one end while her eyes skipped up and down between Alice's eyes and her lips. Up and down.

The chills intensified.

“It kinda is,” Robin admitted in a low murmur and Alice breath hitched all of a sudden.

She could not explain where her condition was emerging from, only that it had to do with the green eyed, and so Alice swallowed hard and ripped her gaze away from the enchanting woman. Dutifully she reminded herself of her plan to go get hot dogs as a form of apology.

She was sure Robin would like them. Perhaps it would elicit another radiating smile or lay the ground for one more velvety laugh. The very idea caused the corners of her mouth curl.

With new enthusiasm in her steps, Alice led them left-hand around the next corner, over the railroads and down the street. She broke into a grin when they turned right and came face to face with Mrs. Lewis' yellow and white striped food truck in front of the pavement, guarded by a row of shops in the background and a bus stop across the street.

“Are you ready to taste the very best hot dog in Seattle?” Alice asked and grinned joyously. “At least approved by myself thus far.”

A responding grin spread on the other woman's face. Her eyes brightened to an intense glow. She leaned forward and lowly replied, “Always.”

Alice's insides swooned.

While they went to grab their hot dogs with Alice treating, Robin asked her questions about her art.

Happily Alice told her everything about it; how art fulfilled her, how she moved from the UK to the USA to follow her dreams and how great it was to get a chance for proving herself with the art scholarship and now the exhibition.

It was nice to talk to someone about this other than her father. So far Alice had not made many friends in Seattle. She had made lots of acquaintances since coming here but the conversations were often reduced to small talk or a subject based on the environment, she'd met them in. Like Mrs. Lewis who always asked Alice, if she was getting enough food. It had been enough for Alice not to feel absolutely alone and yet, this one conversation right now was one of the greatest things she experienced since leaving her home and her papa.

Whilst Alice talked Robin finished her hot dog in a few bites and Alice wondered if there was something Robin did not do purposeful.

“I gotta admit, that was one of the best hot dogs I've ever had,” Robin said and smoothly tossed the paper into a bin.

Alice nibbed on her on her own hot dog absently, preoccupied and more interested in the beautiful woman next to her than in the food. Somehow they had picked up walking again. Neither one of them had called an end to their meeting despite the purpose having been completed.

“So you moved here from the UK?” Robin asked.

Alice swallowed down the half chewed chunk of hot dog she'd bit off a second ago. She felt it gradually forcing its way down her throat. Suffocating was not an answer to Robin's question. It was a painful reminder, that no matter how eager she was to talk to Robin, she should restrain her exuberant self.

Clearing her now aching throat, she finally replied, “Yep, four months ago.”

“Well then, welcome to the  _City of Goodwill_ ,” Robin smiled and spread an arm in a wide and inviting gesture.

It was a name Alice had never heard before. Confused she frowned, “I thought Seattle is called the  _Emerald City_.”

“Oh, that's one of its names, too,” Robin uttered mysteriously and dropped down onto a bench. "Actually,  _City of Goodwill_  is one of its mottos."

Chewing on a new bite, Alice joined her on the bench and contemplated the names.

 _City of Goodwill_  sounded promising, like all opportunities were waiting around the corner to jump at you instead of you having to jump at them. Regardless, there was something about _Emerald City_ , that she had found alluring from the moment she read up on this city.

“I think I like  _Emerald City_  best. It reminds me of Oz. I like the classics,” she told the woman who surprisingly had not left yet.

“Yeah, me, too,” Robin agreed, leaning back into the bench. “Although I hope we aren't ruled by a fraud wizard who tricks little girls,” she added with a mischievous drone, saucy on the edge.

“No, this city is fine,” Alice replied giggling. “Great coffee. Too much drizzle, perhaps. I am more used to heavy downpours.”

Robin giggled now, too, and Alice was sure she did not want their meeting to end any time soon. She loved the glint in those pale green eyes and the silky ring of Robin's frisky voice. It made Alice's skin tingle and heart quiver in a pleasant way.

“What do you do for a living?” Alice asked more because of her interest in the other woman than to keep the conversation alive.

“Besides working in my aunt's bistro to pay my share of the rent for my cousin's place where I currently crash on the couch?” Robin listed in a voice drenched by a heavy layer of sarcasm. After a dramatic pause she clicked her tongue, “I'd say finding myself.”

Alice frowned, trying to digest the clump of information. It was a bulky one. She finished her hot dog and screwed the wrapping paper up before shifting on the bench to look at Robin.

At the end of her assessment only one question seemed important to Alice as it was the only thing which seemed relevant to Robin after all. “Where did you lose it?”

“That's a strange question,” Robin muttered almost immediately. Her eyebrows were furrowed into a deep frown. “What makes you say that?”

“If you say you are finding yourself, it either means you have always been searching for it or you've lost it,” Alice explained as best as she could.

“Huh,” Robin huffed half-laughing. “What a funny way to look at the world.”

Alice's lips curled into a grateful smile. Except for her papa nobody had said something like this to her in a way it sounded like a compliment. Patiently she waited for Robin to talk again, taking notice how the brunette beauty straightened her back and folded her arms.

With the smallest of shrugs Robin continued, “Maybe it's part of both. I don't know. I've recently lost something of myself but I am also searching for something new, I guess. I finished college but I still have to figure out where I will go from here. Having a complicated relationship with my mom is not helping either.”

“Where do you want to go from here?” Alice asked carefully. She did not want to hurt the other woman's feelings but show her that she was ready to listen.

“Honestly? Just be happy everyday. I don't need a sports car or a golden credit card. Maybe a nice place to come home to, a job that makes fun and some awesome adventures to file into my memories for when I am old and wrinkly. Turning back time to an easier standing with my mom wouldn't be so bad as well.”

For the first time since meeting this woman, since meeting Robin Mills, Alice felt a stab of awkwardness twisting her stomach.

She sensed that Robin wanted to talk about her mother and yet Alice did not know if she was allowed to probe into the subject. They were strangers after all. No matter how connected Alice felt to the woman.

Too many times she had been wrong about her connection to others before and she was afraid she might scare Robin away. Self-consciously she fumbled with the hem of her shirt and nibbled on her lips.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Robin asked. This time her voice, most times strong and low, rang out in tender and high tunes.

Surprised Alice raised her eyes and saw Robin stare back at her. In the olive green flickered something like hope, nebulously pale, bordered with blurry lines of uneasiness, apprehension even.

Alice felt a tug on her heart. A smile spread on her face seeing how Robin did not want to end their surprising meeting so soon.

“No. Not at all,” she breathed out, deliberately forgetting that she had an art project to work on.

In this moment time was an empty space. It surrounded her and Robin. But it could not touch them.

“Would you mind taking a walk with me?”

Looking at Robin, Alice was certain that she would not mind taking a walk with her at all, no matter how long the walk lasted. She wouldn't mind her company for as long as Robin let Alice stay.

Perhaps running into Robin had been a happy accident.

A very happy one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) CenturyLink Field – is a multi-purpose stadium located in Seattle. It is home field for the Seattle Seahawks and can be used to play soccer which is actually the sport a British person refers to when they say "football". That's why Alice calls football "American football".
> 
> 2) Seahawks – Seattle's football team. To be honest I am no expert on football but it seems to be a big issue with the Seahawks. Apparantly, the crowd is extremely loud during Seahawks games because it has twice held the Guinness World Record for loudest crowd roar at an outdoor stadium. 
> 
> 3) Mrs. Lewis' food truck is fictional. Mrs. Lewis is a character from OUAT. It's the woman who could not remember Tilly. I adored the reference to _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ with Mrs. Lewis and Mr. Charles so I wanted to use them (even if I hated them a little for not remembering poor Tilly :P).
> 
> 4) "City of Goodwill" and "Emerald City" – The first is an official motto of Seattle, second is an official name. It was one of the things I loved about the setting of Seattle in s7. If I remember correctly, the name "Emerald City" was mentioned early in the season. What's awesome about is that this is also the name of the Capital city in the world of Oz. They aren't actually connected though. Seattle is called the Emerald City because it is very green. Another one of its mottos is "City of Flowers" which OUAT also picked up.
> 
> 5) Have to admit I have an easier time writing in Robin's slightly sarcastic, realistic, down to earth voice than Alice's unconcealed honesty, innocence and... I don't know... Bemusement? Both perspectives are fun to write, though, and this difference between them is another thing which makes this couple soooo adorable. *starts swooning*
> 
> 6) If you find mistakes or have any tips on how to make Alice's part sound more British, don't be afraid to tell me. I am neither from the US nor the UK, so critical feedback on this is appreciated. ;)


	3. Change of Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they stroll through the streets of Seattle Robin gets more and more intriguied into the wilde blonde who had crossed her path (quite literally). Some things are finally put into perspective.
> 
> Warnings: Non-consent/Deceptive sex briefly mentioned. (Don't worry, not our girls. Never our girls!)

 

Alice had come into her life like a train running over her.

In some sense she did run over her. But the crash of their bodies wasn't what had motivated Robin to linger and stay close to the woman who'd accidentally emptied her flute of champagne on Robin's shirt.

The moment Robin had lifted her eyes from the stain, nastily gluing her shirt to her chest, she was struck breathless.

And it certainly had nothing only to do with their prior, rather unfortunate collision.

The woman in front of her had seemed like a magical creature: Wild, unbound and stupefying pretty. When she had rambled on an apology in a thick and very cute British accent, Robin felt the prior glob of anger fizzle out and it was quickly replaced by amusement settling in the space between her stomach and chest.

Alice was a spectacle of nature.

After her initial puzzlement ebbed away, Robin got intrigued in getting to know more about this mysterious girl with eyes as blue as the sky, hair as blonde as the sun and the cutest smile one could fathom, only to learn that she was the artist of the painting that had moved Robin so tremendously just a few moments before their unplanned meeting.

Alice was something else. And Robin had been concerned to not let her disappear in the same, spontaneous fashion she had entered her life.

As they walked through the streets of Seattle, across the bowl of CenturyLink Field and towards Pioneer Square, they talked and laughed like they had known each for more than a few minutes.

Something was between them. Like a spark or a pulse that drummed in an unknown but beautiful melody. It hadn't taken Robin long to get hooked to Alice's bell-like giggle or the way a tint of red spread over her cheeks down towards her neck whenever she blushed.

She liked the way Alice seemed pristine; already cherished her unique views and funny remarks.

Plus, her accent was outright adorable.

Even though her own mother had a British accent, Robin felt like every tone, every vowel pronounced differently was like a tender stroke on the language.

Robin couldn't get enough of it. Of Alice.

Greedily her eyes drank in the sight of Alice's expressive face, her spunky gestures and the very complimenting outer appearance. Never had she appreciated army boots, torn leggings, a simple black vest and a too large, red checkered shirt like this before.

At one point during their stroll through the city she might have remembered that she totally left Henry behind with no notice whatsoever. But as long as he did not make an emergency call she would walk next to Alice and keep asking her questions.

One, especially crossed her mind when they reached sight of the western piers of Seattle with the sea spread over the background. “Why a sailing ship?”

The toothy smile Alice had worn throughout their walk immediately dropped and Robin wished she could take back the question but before she could tell Alice, that it was fine and that she wasn't obliged to say anything, the blonde answered the question, “I painted it when I was still at home. My father had been a seafarer before I was born. The sea was his freedom and while growing up I adopted this sense of liberty and put it into the picture. I wished to see the ocean for real. Even for once.”

Robin gulped when Alice's eyes glazed over and she brokenly admitted, “He left it all behind when he stayed to take care of me as a baby.”

Now she understood the sensation of longing the painting had emitted. It was Alice's longing to see the world that had shaped the ship and tinged the sea. Even before they had known each other Robin had been able to sympathize with the other woman. She was familiar with the idea of longing for freedom. After having been raised with lies about her father, learning the truth had pushed Robin against the bars of the golden cage, which she had been unknowingly held captive in, and she had been quick to set herself free. Not everyone was able to escape their own prison, though.

Not knowing any other way to soothe the blonde, Robin patted her shoulder and ignored the tickle traveling through her fingers and up her arm, caused by the second touch between them – something she was very aware of. “I am sure he is proud of you,” she whispered.

“I would hope so,” Alice whispered back. Her lips curving on one end she looked at Robin beneath half lidded eyes.

A look that made Robin's insides crumble.

Feeling overwhelmed she tore her gaze away and looked over the coast once again. Putting two and two together, she raised one of her eyebrows. “Is that the reason why you picked Seattle? Because it is by the sea?”

“Possibly.” Alice offered a smile. “That and Seattle being a significant center for all types of art. However, I believe the name  _Emerald City_  settled the matter.”

Robin chuckled, amused at Alice's humor and even more glad that it returned to her.

She jumped when all of a sudden something buzzed furiously inside her jacket.

Her ringtone started to blurt out low drumming beats, introducing a song she usually loved but which, right now as it interrupted her and Alice, got on her nerves. Robin fished out her cell phone with a scowl.

She groaned when she saw the picture of her mom on her 40th birthday smirking into the camera. Despite her nerves roaring to life Robin dryly commented, “That's my mom. She was texting me earlier and now it seems like she is desperate to make conversation.”

Unsure if she should reject the call or just sit it out, her thumb hovered over the display.

Robin licked her lips. The longer the song went on the more she felt her heart raging in her chest. She wished she could just pick up the phone. But it simply wasn't that easy.

When the music finally stopped blaring, she released a sigh of relief.

She hated chickening out. It usually wasn't her thing. It hadn't been when one of her friends in school had dared her to kiss the nasty quarterback, who had a crush on her, or when she walked past the school's principal with her head held high while she skipped a lesson. It hadn't even been when she had been dared by said friend again to kiss her secret crush, a blonde cheerleader, or when she hijacked her aunt's Mercedes-Benz. But facing her mom right now was something Robin just couldn't do.

Her fingers were uncharacteristically sweaty as she buried the cell phone inside her pocket again and lifted her eyes, worried about Alice's reaction to her moment of shame.

The other women looked at her with lips pressed tight and troubled eyes. Concern clouded their blue color. “Look,” she pressed out. “I don't know what transpired between you and your mother but if it was me who was cut off from someone like you, I'd try to do anything to make it up to you. It takes courage to call again and again without being on the receiving end.”

“You think I should forgive her?” Robin asked incredulously. “She hid a very important truth from me.”

“I think you should give her a chance to apologize at the very least and see where it goes. My guess is she hid the truth to protect you, not to hurt you. Sometimes people make the biggest mistakes despite their best intentions,” Alice said with an exaggerated shrug.

Robin huffed, amazed at the unshakable wisdom but even more shocked that she actually felt the words to be true. No matter how many heart-to-heart sittings she had endured with Henry, she had never reached the point where she understood her mom's behavior.

Stunned she mumbled, “You're pretty good at this.”

“Yeah, I've come a long way, from being sort of imprisoned in my old life to meeting lots of people on my journey to the States and now, trying to afford a living by working part-time at a hat shop while being more concerned about selling my art,” Alice chirped, chasing away the ugly bubble of scorn the reminder of her mother's actions had planted in the back of Robin's mind.

“This does sound like a hell of a story. Where in the UK do you come from exactly?”

“I grew up in this small village southeast of Oxford, Nuneham Courtenay,” Alice told her.

Robin snorted at the name, unable to stifle a laugh. “Seriously? That's a real name?”

Alice nodded and smacked her lips, “Yep, I am afraid so. It was just me and my papa. The woman who gave birth to me abandoned us on the same day she had me. Me and my papa, we were living a good life but I felt entrapped in the small world of a tiny parish with roughly 200 souls. I wanted to see the world outside.”

Robin frowned at the story. Two hundred people. That couldn't have been easy. Usually the smaller the world the less open-minded the people in it were. And Alice was anything but ordinary. “What did you do?”

“My papa had saved money to send me to Oxford but when I told him about my wish to go away, abroad even, he was very supportive. He did everything he could to get me out of there. This art scholarship and the flight were a one way ticket. I haven't seen him since I've left the UK but if I make it here and earn enough money, maybe we can built a new life together in Seattle.”

The words were uttered with so much longing that Robin could not prevent her eyes from blurring with tears. So far she could tell, Alice wore her heart on her sleeves and the hurt in her voice made Robin's heart sting. “Must be hard for you to be separated from your dad, not knowing when you will see him again.”

Alice nodded. “We try to stay in contact, write letters.”

Taken aback Robin stared at her. “Hang on. You do know Skype, don't you?” she asked carefully.

“Yes, but I am afraid it is not that easy,” Alice said with a pout that charmed Robin's eyes to drop to her lips. “The time difference makes it difficult and whilst we tried to stay in contact from the beginning we rarely get a hold of each other or at least for a satisfying amount of time. These letters makes our contact less hasty. It's less annoying than the Facebook Messenger, too.”

“That sucks,” Robin concluded, unsure what else to say. She'd never been separated from her mom, not if it wasn't her own choice. She couldn't imagine how hard it must be for Alice, being so far away from her father and alone in a foreign country.

“It does.”

Robin clicked her tongue. “Well, looks like there's something we have in common. Only child raised by a single parent, separated through circumstances. We should open a club.”

“Perhaps we should,” Alice replied more lighthearted. Her smile grew larger the longer she looked at Robin and Robin felt charmed by its brightness, her eyes skipping unconsciously to the pink lips framing the broad smile.

Robin gulped and clawed herself out of the spell. Looking around she noticed how they already walked past some of the piers and were now close to pier 57, most known for the iconic Great Wheel, which already towered above the buildings in their line of sight.  Spotting the building of pier 55 with the candy shop, called  _Frankly Sweets,_  nearby, Robin started grinning, “Have you ever tasted salt water taffy? My treat this time.”

A few minutes later, after picking out the best looking candies and Robin having to clarify that salt water taffy contained no salt water when Alice expressed her wariness about salted sweets, they settled down on a bench on the pier digging into their bags filled with candy.

“Do you want to talk about what happened between you and your mother?” Alice asked out of nowhere.

Robin froze for a second.

Turning to look at Alice she saw her fidgeting slightly. She seemed to be uneasy and scared about broaching the subject.

Alice had told her a lot about herself. There was no reason for Robin to keep the nasty, little family secret to herself now. More so because she had never meant to leave Alice in the dark about it and if she was honest to herself she had kinda stirred the conversation to end up there, even if not intentionally. So far she just hadn't had the spirit to call the disgrace by its real name. But why stash away the family scandal when she could share her misery?

“It's about how I was conceived,” she explained with a puff.

Alice stared at her with her eyes comically widening second by second. A major blush exploded on her face. A tell-tale sign of what she was thinking.

“Don't worry. No weird sex stories today,” Robin joked and scoffed. “Though the circumstances are kinda weird in an ethical way. My mom slept with my aunt's boyfriend to get back at her. Spiked his drink and took advantage of him. Thus, I was created.” She delivered the punch line with a sarcastic blow but sighed genuinely before continuing, “The day I found out, I had enough. I couldn't take it. It was like all my life I've thought my mom was some kind of Glinda only to learn that she was, in truth, the Wicked Witch of the West. So I ran away and started living at my cousin's place.”

“What happened to your father?” Alice asked in a tiny voice while shifting to face Robin fully.

“My dad died when I was a baby,” Robin muttered, “Killed by thugs while protecting my aunt. That was all I was allowed to know until I learned the whole, despicable truth.”

Unconcealed compassion flooded the blue of Alice. Lids and lips dropping she murmured, “I am sorry about your father.”

“Don't be. It is okay. Though, the only thing I've received from him are his name and half a set of genes I've made my peace with it. He kinda died a hero.” Robin shrugged. “The world is not perfect.”

“Neither are the people living in it. Nobody is.” Alice murmured but when her eyes met Robin's again the darkness was flushed away with some kind of wonder. As if she was seeing something magical.

Robin ignored the flutter of her heart and released a seething sigh, “You're right, they aren't. Me and my mom included.”

Maybe the world wasn't perfect because of the people in it. Maybe it was unfair for Robin to prolong the separation from her mom when there were people like Alice and her father who did not have a choice. Maybe her mom had not meant to hurt her and maybe it was unfair of Robin to cut her off without any opportunity to justify herself. “Maybe I should give my mom a chance,” she murmured her conclusion.

“Certainly that's all she is hoping for at the moment,” Alice whispered softly.

They shared a smile.

In this moment there was nothing but the understanding between them and a sea of opportunities tossing waves of missed chances behind while they sat at a pier in Seattle with the ocean breeze running through both their hairs.

A teeth hurting amount of candies and a wheel ride later, they decided to call it a day after Alice confessed, she had a project she needed to work on.

It felt natural to Robin to offer to walk Alice to wherever she needed to go to get home and to her great joy Alice had accepted and lead them away from the piers.

“Here it is,” Alice said after a few yards. “Thank you for walking me to the bus stop.” She smiled so sweetly, displaying her full set of white teeth, which was – by now Robin was sure about it – the most adorable thing she had ever seen.

“No problem,” Robin replied as cool as possible besides the jitters running havoc in her stomach. She did not want to bid farewell to this wonderful creature which she had stumbled upon at a chance meeting in a place she had not wanted to be.

“And I wanted to say I don't think your mum is either Glinda or the Wicked Witch. People aren't types. Sometimes we are caught in a tornado, sometimes we lack courage or a heart and some people need their Dorothy to find their yellow brick road,” Alice said leaning against the bus stop post.

“My roomie, slash cousin, always says, how stories are more than words and make us who we are,” Robin said with a grin.

“Sounds about right,” Alice nodded thoughtfully. “I remember how as a young girl I always wanted to be like Alice in Wonderland; to fall through a rabbit hole and discover a whole new world filled with possibilities. It might have motivated me to define my own story.”

“Seems like in the end you did end up being like the famous Alice in Wonderland,” Robin replied closing the distance between them. “That is if you consider a transatlantic flight a sort of rabbit hole.”

Alice chuckled before her face fell again. “I simply hope I will not wake up one day and find myself in Nuneham Courtenay again,” she muttered sadly.

“You won't. I can testify for this being real,” Robin said nudging Alice playfully into the side with an elbow, hoping to chase away the clouds from the blue of her eyes. “Thank you by the way. Must be the best apology I've ever received.”

“It was my pleasure,” Alice breathed out and smiled at her in wonder, effectively making Robin's heart soar.

Robin knew now was the perfect time to strike, if she did not want the magical, blonde beauty to leave her life again.

With every ounce of confidence Robin could muster, she asked, “Can I leave you my number? In case you want to see the Seahawks or get a craving for salt water taffy?”

“Absolutely,” Alice grinned effortlessly and dunked a hand into her messenger bag. After retrieving and unlocking her cell phone she handed it to Robin.

Robin would deny to anyone that her fingers trembled when she typed in her cell number and name or how nervous she got when a bus arrived at the bus stop and Alice hurriedly announced, “This is my bus.”

Quickly she checked the line of digits and passed the phone back to Alice. Watching the blonde hop through the doors, Robin felt her stomach drop at the undesirable sight and rose a hand in an unsure wave.

Alice's promise, “I will give you a ring then,” however, were the best words Robin had ever heard being uttered through doors closing.

Hope punched into her and made her feel giddy. The promise of seeing Alice again had the same effect on her as a drug.

She couldn't stop herself from grinning while watching the bus drive away until it rounded a corner.

Her grin did neither vanish on the walk to the next best subway station, nor did it leave on the ride home, to her cousin's tiny apartment, which admittedly took a while since Henry wasn't living as close to the center as Alice seemed to do. These few hours with Alice had made it totally worth it, though. She would ride hours to see Alice's smile for the blink of an eye.

While sitting in the subway heading North-Seattle she was reminiscent of their chats about family and home. Alice seemed as noble and honest and wonderfully real as they come.

And to Robin's own surprise, Alice had made her look at things with her mom through a whole new perspective, one she had always shied away from before.

Not only that. During her ride home Robin slowly got a grasp on what she wanted to do with her life. Talking to Alice had cast a different light on her wishes and ideas of her future.

She wanted to do something to make the world right. To correct the world in which people like her dad were killed in. To make the world in which somebody as pure as Alice lived a better place.

Nope, she didn't stop grinning until she unlocked the apartment door with the spare key which Henry had given her during the first week she stayed. She didn't stop while taking notice of the low light brimming from the living room before she headed to the bathroom to wash her hands or when she called out to Henry through the open door, “Hey, roomie. Do you still have contact to your other mom? The one living in New York?”

“Yeah, sure. Why?” he called back from the living room.

“I finally have an idea what I want to do for a living,” Robin replied while walking towards the living room.

Now her grin dropped.

Together with her jaw.

Henry sat in front of his laptop, typing away something and wearing the broadest smile she'd seen since his break-up with Ella.

Startled Robin bombarded him with questions, “What's up with that shit-eating smile? And are you seriously writing? What the hell has happened while I was gone? Has hell happened?”

“No, it did not. In fact quite the opposite has happened,” he pushed himself away from his makeshift desk and spun around on his office chair to face her. “Ella has called. She wants to see me tomorrow to talk. And before you say something she sounded very happy and cheerful.”

Robin stared at Henry. Unblinkingly.

She observed how his eyes had regained their shine of belief and hope, noticed how the furrows on his face had ceased out and were now replaced by laughter-lines circling his huge smile.

Maybe Henry wasn't a fool for believing in love like Robin had thought until a few hours ago.

With a new understanding Robin could not help but admit that he was likely one of the bravest people out there to throw himself again and again into the unknown and take the risk of getting hurt.

Her heart fluttered, when she realized that she wanted to be brave this time, too. Be the bravest for Alice.

“Anyway, where have you been off to all of a sudden? I thought I would find you here after I discovered that you actually ditched me,” Henry said while rocking slightly backwards and forwards in his chair.

Robin sat down on the couch, intentionally evading the sat-in hollow which had been responsible for numerous mornings starting with backache and told him, “Sorry about that but I bumped into somebody.”

An image of Alice fluttered across her mind and butterflies looped the loop inside her stomach.

“Based on your own shit-eating smile, I am guessing it was someone special,” Henry teased her.

Robin smirked. Leaning forward, elbows resting on her knees, she confessed, “I might have discovered that I have a secret thing for artists.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Pioneer's Square, the Great Wheel and "Frankly Sweets" are actual places in Seattle.
> 
> 2) Nuneham Courtenay – It's said that Lewis Carroll aka Charles Dodgson came up with the outline of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ on one of his expeditions with the family Liddel to either Nuneham Courtenay or Godstow.  
>  Based on the fact that small villages are more conservative, I plan to use it to make Alice's past very bleak, having problems growing up there as a dreamer and queer person. No offense to the 200 people actually living there, though. :P Places and names used in this story do not describe real places or persons but are part of a fictional product. Etc. etc... You know the deal. ;)
> 
> 3) Obviously, I had to change the story with Zelena deceiving Robin of Locksley in terms of realism. Of course drugging him is not the same as shapeshifting into his dead wife and deceiving him for months. I think to that we all can agree. But I believe, if you are a child, who was conceived by such an act, you would find it horrible either way.
> 
> 4) Not going to lie to you guys, this was how far I had planned this fic. Originally it was meant as a 10k One-shot based on the question how Alice and Robin's supportive and affecting relationship would look like in a modern setting. But after Alice helped Robin to sort things out just by being herself and talking to her, I wanted MORE.  
> I kinda like this setting and there is a lot of potential. Also: I just love them too much. XD
> 
> Oh and here is a map of their stroll through Seattle:
> 
> According to Google Maps this road takes 45 minutes on feet. Strolling and pausing a lot on their 'date' it might have taken them two to three hours. 


	4. Missing Persons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin's plans for her future bear fruits but she won't get the blonde girl out of her head.

 

“Hey, my NYC mom called,” Henry said to Robin as she walked into the apartment and threw his car keys into their key bowl.

She just had come home from informing herself about the BA in Criminal Justice at the CityU, the City University of Seattle.

“She wants to meet up with you and me in New York,” he added when Robin met his eyes.

“Seriously?” Robin asked, dropping her bag next to the couch and blinking bewildered at Henry who sat in his chair like she had left him hours ago.

It had been a week since she had told Henry about her future plans. In the course of this week she became increasingly convinced that this was what she wanted to do. Hearing now the great news about Emma Swan, Henry's birth mother and bail bond agent, wanting to see her was just – “Awesome! When are we going?”

He typed something on his keyboard – probably finishing a sentence or a thought. The last few days had been the most productive she had ever seen him. But also she had learned not to interrupt a writer who caught fervor. Apparently, they were a cranky bunch when they got disturbed while being at a white heat.

Calling forth some patience she tore her gaze away from him and went the few steps to the fridge to grab a bottle of juice.

While his NYC mom was a bail bond agent and not a private investigator like Robin wanted to become, she was the closest first hand experience Robin knew off, working on the private side of the law. Plus, there was only a slim difference between finding people who did not want to be found and people who went missing, wasn't there?

From behind the door she heard Henry's chair groan when he finally pushed himself away from his story. “I thought about flying the week after this, if you are up to it and have time,” he told her. “I can work a few days ahead and I heard from mom that you have a lot of extra hours to burn.”

“Yes to all,” Robin nodded enthusiastically and walked over to him, playfully poking his shoulder with a fist. “Thank you, Henry. So much. You earned yourself a 'Best Cousin in the World' mug.”

Henry chuckled, “It's fine, I didn't do this for a reward but to help you find yourself. I know how brutal that can be. Also I haven't seen my other mom in ages. It will be nice to spend some time with her.”

Leaning her back against his desk, Robin sipped on her bottle of juice and mustered him. Her curiosity got the best of her and she just needed to ask, “So you told Aunt Regina about this?”

“Of course, I did,” he said with a frown, looking mildly offended. “Why shouldn't I?”

“Please, everyone knows the story about how you hopped on a plane to New York to find your birth mother without telling anyone. You literally played,” Robin raised her hands to form quotation marks with her fingers while enclosing the cap from the bottle in one palm, “ _Home Alone: Lost in New York_. ”

“I was just a kid and those movies inspired many children to do crazy things,” Henry justified himself while spinning slightly from side to side in his chair. “I did a lot of growing up since then.”

“And yet you are still a dreamer,” Robin chimed with a smirk.

Henry leaned to the side with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile. “There is nothing bad about that. Isn't the artist you've met the dreamer type, too?”

Robin's smirk instantly vanished into thin air.

It was like a band-aid being ripped off.

No, worse than that. It was like ten thousands of band-aids ripped off at the same spot and a container with tons of salt was dumped onto the unprotected wound afterwards.

“Probably. Can't say for sure, though,” she said with a shrug and pushed herself away from the desk leaving the bottle and her cheerfulness behind. “She never called.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” With a hissing sigh she let herself fall onto the couch, feeling tired and depressed all of a sudden. Muffled she mumbled into the cushions, “I don't understand it, though. We had so much fun and we talked a lot. There was something going on between us. Like a deep understanding of each other.” She sighed – again – and turned her head to look at her cousin. “You know, what I mean?”

“All I know is that Robin Mills aka the Sass Princess is smitten,” Henry replied with a broad grin.

“Okay, shut up,” Robin spat, really not being into the mood for jokes right now.

“Wow, just a simple 'Shut up'? No clever remark?” Henry squinted his eyes together. “This girl must have gotten into your head.”

She had.

There was no point in denying it. At least to herself.

Alice had gotten into her head.

But Alice also had never called and even if there was a piteous, little voice inside Robin regretting not having asked for Alice's number, the end result would have been all the same and might have hurt more.

Alice chose not to call her.

She did not want to see her again.

As much as this truth hurt, Robin should finally learn to accept it.

Also there had been no time to ask for Alice's number to begin with. Between typing in her number, the bus arriving and Alice boarding it before the door closed, there had been no time to ask for her number in return.

Robin was very sure, that she had given Alice the correct number. Due to her trembling fingers at the prospect of seeing Alice again, she had checked the digits twice before handing Alice her phone back.

She had given Alice the right number.

Alice not calling her could only meant she did not want to.

With a grunt Robin sat upright and pushed strands of hair fallen out of place back over her shoulder.

Taking in a deep breath, she opted for clinging onto the distraction rather than the pain itself and rejoined the banter with her cousin instead of sulking. “Why only Sass Princess? I am 22. Thereby considered of age all over the world.”

For a moment Henry pressed his lips tightly together. There was a slight chance he might have caught on Robin's true feelings; after a puff of air he exaggeratedly explained to her, “First of all, age has nothing to do with if you're a princess or a queen but more importantly the title of Sass Queen is still fought for between your mom and mine.”

Fortunately for Robin he let her have this battle of wit instead of ushering a chocolate and ice cream emergency call and so she huffed incredulously, “Aunt Regina clearly wins that one. As if my mom would ever want to be queen.”

“Who doesn't?”

“Me,” Robin countered and scowled. “Hell, I would die having to wear puffy dresses and talk or listen to a bunch of old men all day.”

“Which century do you believe we live in?” Knitting his eyebrows Henry looked at her as if she'd talked nonsense.

Robin just rolled her eyes and drawled, “The one reigned by white, chubby men.”

Chuckling Henry raised his hands, “Well played. I admit defeat.”

“Thanks,” Robin said, her lips slightly curling again. They would soon recover to their full capacity, Robin was sure. She just needed to rip the band-aid off for good, first. Rising to her feet she announced, “I have to go now. Pick up some stuff from my mom's place.”

“Tell her I said, 'Hi',” Henry said.

Without further ado Robin picked her black leather jacket from the hall stand, one of the items she had missed most during her isolation from her old home, redid her hair by flopping her mane over her right shoulder and turned to the door.

She was half through the apartment, when Henry called out to her again, “By the way, have you told your mom that you want to become a private investigator?”

Spinning round on her heels, Robin looked at him with a guilty smile. “Not yet. I wanted to get an idea of it first before I risk her murderous wrath. I am not sure yet if this is the right way and I want to be 100 % sure before I tell her.” And she did not want to tarnish their shaky relationship any further. She and her mom had talked about what happened and agreed on meeting every weekend while Robin stayed at Henry's. Her mom had been reluctant about letting Robin go to become her own person and Robin had been reluctant about forgiving her mom fully. So for the time being Robin was cautious with everything that could corrupt their current peace negotiations.

Speaking of which... Robin pointed a scolding finger into Henry's direction. “Don't you dare to even imply something to her. You know she will lash out at me like a bloodhound.”

“Ah yes, the Mills family genes,” Henry scoffed, tapping the fingertips of both hands against each other.

“You love us Mills women, Henry Mills,” Robin told him with disbelieving frown, “You just act smug because you and Ella are on better terms now.”

“Guilty as charged. Don't worry, though, I won't tell Aunt Zelena. If she asks about you, I will tell her the same thing I told my mom: You want to see the Big Apple and are happy to tag along getting a free guide.”

“Thanks, roomie,” Robin replied turning to the door again. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

When the door fell into its hinges, Robin released another sigh. She had not been totally honest with Henry. While she would visit her mom and aunt later to pick up more of her things, she needed to make another stop first.

Heading down the staircase, across the street and into the subway station, Robin traveled to the place she had ended up three days in a row.

It was almost embarrassing to admit but the last few days Robin had adopted some serious stalking tendencies.

Exiting the subway at SODO, she made a short detour to pick up two cups of coffee to go before she walked to the industry hall in the 6th which had become familiar to her. by now

Eight days had passed since she had crossed paths with Alice inside this very building.

The first three days she had grown nuts with forced patience, telling herself that Alice might be regarding the stupid three days rule, which really should be abolished.

The fourth day had been a day of sobering and petrifaction. Despite trying to keep her mind busy by making inquiries on how to become a private investigator, she could not stop the flutters of doubt swirling inside her. Had her feelings been one-sided? Had she imagined the connection between them? Had she read too much into Alice's blushes and shy glances? She could have sworn – and this was an idea which had taken root in her mind on day two – that their time spent together had been kind of a date.

On the fifth day she had decided to suck it up. Robin Mills did not linger on second thoughts. She did what she needed to do to reach her goals and one of them right now was to see Alice Jones again.

That was the reason why for the last four days, including today, Robin had visited to the one place she was sure Alice was connected to with a hot beverage Robin was sure Alice liked. – So far the only dots connected to Alice's likes and dislikes were coffee, hot dogs and salt water taffy. Though the last one sported a little question mark.

But sadly, days five, six and seven had not provided any satisfactory result. Finishing her cup of coffee and sipping on the one supposed for Alice, Robin had waited until her feet hurt from standing. The bitter taste of the cold brew always stuck to her tongue by the time she would finally leave.

However, this time she had a new plan.

She had figured that, when she wanted to become a private investigator, she could surely act like one. Starting today. And wasn't finding missing people and collecting data, like say mobile numbers, part of a PI's work?

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

She waited the usual hour, just in case Alice did show up, which, of course, she didn't, before Robin grabbed her cell phone. She changed the settings on withheld phone number and typed in the number of the CoCA printed on a corner of the large banner.

While the phone rang, Robin wished for the umpteenth time she would have paid attention to the number of the bus Alice had taken, or that she would have asked where exactly Alice studied art at. Anything that could give her a hint to find one particular British girl in a huge American city.

“Hello. Center of Contemporary Art. What can I do for you?” An upbeat, female voice answered the phone.

'Here goes nothing,' Robin thought and initiated the tactic she had pondered on while waiting.

“Hello,” she chirped in a faked, high-pitched, breathy tone, “this is Margot West from the student council. We seem to lack information on one of your clients, Alice Jones. Based on our state of knowledge you exhibit one of her paintings. Unfortunately, Miss Jones registered with her telephone number in the UK. Do you happen to have her cell phone number?”

Robin tried not to cringe. It was a risky thing and she had reconsidered formulations and points to make sure this call wouldn't affect Alice negatively in any way. She hoped she would not ruin any slight chance she had, concerning the blonde.

With keen attention she listened to the clicking of a keyboard.

“What do you need her number for?” The woman asked.

'Besides seriously drifting on the line between being desperate and stalking?' Robin thought sarcastically. 'Nothing much.'

Robin cleared her throat before falling back into her role. Even though this affected manner of speaking started to make her sick she chirped, “Miss Jones missed a due date of a project thanks to a mistake in the examination register. We are obliged to inform her and reschedule the date of submission.”

“I am sorry, this is a confidential information,” the woman replied.

Robin bit her tongue. Hard.

Seriously? Then why did she even ask what Robin needed it for in the first place?

Shaking her head, Robin returned to her role as Margot West, pompously talking student council member of whatever place Alice studied at, “Look, I understand your duty of non-disclosure. However, this is an urgent issue. The project is mandatory to enter the graduation process. If she doesn't hand it in soon, we can't guarantee for her scholarship to remain in force.”

“Fine,” the woman sighed. “I'll give you the number.”

“Thank you,” Robin said while fishing out a pen from her bag to note down the number. Squeezing her cell phone between her ear and shoulder, she scribbled the digits the woman told her onto the cup of coffee.

After repeating the number once more and having it confirmed, Robin started smirking.

She actually got Alice's number.

“Awesome, thanks,” she mumbled and hung up on the now shocked gasping woman working for the CoCa.

One day, she should definitely thank Henry for making her watch all these crime shows on NBC. They certainly helped impersonating people adept in law and bureaucracy who usually tended to speak with a swollen tongue .

Cheerfully she copied the number from the cup into her cell phone – she needed to remember to destroy the cup later before dumping it into the trash can – and saved the new contact, Alice Jones.

Her heart fluttered as she stared at the number.

Ten digits.

Ten digits promising a high road to happiness.

Robin could call now.

She would hear Alice picking up and greet her in the cute accent of hers. Robin would be able to talk to her again. To listen to her wonderful giggle and adorable mumble.

But –

But who said Alice would not hang up on her? If she had wanted to talk to her, Alice could have called Robin some time during the last week.

Nervousness twisted her stomach into a coil.

She wondered, whether she should adjust the setting of her phone or let her own number stay suppressed, being afraid that Alice might not pick up her phone once she saw who was calling.

No, Robin was better than that.

With a grunt she squashed the empty cup of coffee between her fingers.

She got this far. There was no backing down now. She was not a coward.

After changing the settings back, so Alice would know it was her, Robin reopened the contact and pressed her thumb onto the green symbol of a telephone receiver.

She swiped her tongue over lips before pressing them together as she listened with keen attention to the ringing.

The dull droning pierced her ears.

Her heart clenched and unclenched in response to every ring.

The twinge of reservation swell to bites of doubt.

Maybe Alice wouldn't even know it was her. Maybe she had deleted the contact after boarding the bus. Maybe to Alice Robin would forever be the girl she had her first ride on the Great Wheel with or who showed her salt water taffy for the first time but nothing more. Nothing permanent. Not like Robin had hoped.

She was a brave fool indeed. But she couldn't help it. She wanted at least to have some kind of closure, even if it just meant confirming her fear that Alice did not want to talk to her.

The phone still rang.

How much time had gone by? A minute?

And still nobody picked up.

Maybe Alice was giving Robin the same treatment as Robin had given her mom: Letting her call until she gave up. Now she perfectly understood what Alice had said about not being at the receiving end. It sucked.

For a moment she asked herself whether she should leave a message, if Alice had her voicemail inbox activated.

It seemed futile, though. Nobody picked up.

Not even some voicemail.

Sucking in a hissing breath, Robin retrieved the cell phone from her ear, ready to cancel the call when she, all of a sudden, heard the ringing stop. A rustle resounded from the earpiece.

With trembling fingers Robin lifted the phone and held her breath. Was it possible – ?

She almost accidentally dropped the device when she heard a bright and wonderfully hopeful voice ask in a familiar British accent, “Robin? Is that you?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) SODO station - Subway/Railroad station in south downtown of Seattle.
> 
> 2) "Home Alone 2: Lost in New York" – Great movie in the 1990s. Though it's predecessor, Home Alone, remains to be legendary. (Please, somebody tell me you know it. I hate feeling old. XD)
> 
> 3) You probably noticed how long it took for the new update. That was because I crossposted the story on Wattpad now and had to split the chapters before publishing (Plus, Wattpad is cruel to you, if you publish all parts at once.) But I wanted to do this because a) I feel like this story is something people outside the fandom can enjoy, b) I want to make them big and I hope they are helpful to achieve my dream to become a full-time writer one day and c) Wattpad had an event running during Pride Month for which every new story tagged with #Wattpride donated 1$ toward the ILGA (International Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans and Intersex Association). So far I submitted two books and am working on the third publication of a Mad Archer fic for a good course. It's a win-win situation, I'd say.^^
> 
> **Updates in the future : This story will be upated every second Friday (roughly 2pm CEST) on AO3 and every Friday on Wattpad with one half of a chapter. If you don't want to wait two weeks, here's the link to Wattpad: <https://www.wattpad.com/story/150785209-seattle-love-story> ;P)**
> 
> 4) Okay, now, how did you like Margot West entrance into the story? Would you have bought Robin's performance off?


	5. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What has Alice been doing while Robin waited for her call? Why hasn't she called?

 

Swinging her feet back and forth, while sitting on her small bed, Alice sipped at her first morning tea. 

Black, a dash of milk and lots and lots of sugar.

She loved her tea sweet!

It tasted a bit rusty even so. She and her flatmates shared an old electric kettle which proved to be better than nothing, if you rented a triple room at Cornish Commons.

In her other hand she juggled her mobile as she tried not to break eye contact with her papa who smiled back at her on the screen.

Having the day off and the room all to herself, thanks to her flatmates both visiting their families, Alice had called her papa first thing this Saturday morning.

She had finished telling him all about her week, although she'd been half-awake and a bit bleary eyed. 

However, she was startled awake as soon as memories of olive eyes and a mirthful smirk flashed through her mind. In her story she had not been able to keep herself from mentioning the beautiful brunette she had met last Sunday. Automatically, her face had split into a grin and she had felt fully awake in a second, when she thought of Robin Mills.

"So I take it, this woman is somebody special?" Her papa asked with his happy smile which always shoved his eyebrows in opposing directions.

They had turned significantly grey since the last time Alice had spoken to him via Skype a few weeks ago. His beard, distinctive lines, surrounded by stubble had lost its sharp contrast of black against a light skin. 

Colours of coal had turned to ash. 

Killian Jones was said to be the most dashing man who ever came to Nuneham Courtenay. The people in her home town also said, before Alice's birth, he had been a womaniser. 

Alice thought with some pride, that even if he'd lost the contrast of colours he was still a handsome man and she did not care about what he did in his past for he was the best father a girl could ask for.

"Yes, she is. I wrote you all about her in the letter which should arrive soon," Alice said with unconcealed enthusiasm. With her papa she had never have to be afraid of being herself.

He chuckled and looked at her with a lopsided grin. "That's alright, Starfish. I am just glad you've met someone nice."

"She is. Also she is very smart and funny – and beautiful! Stunningly so," Alice chirped and quickly added, "I wanted to send you a picture of her together with the letter but it turned out I couldn't catch all her colours."

It had been a shame but Alice had not been able to draw anything that did Robin's beauty justice. She had tried and failed. Everything had seemed like a childish scrawl compared to the real Robin. Now her dustbin, which she'd promised her flatmates to empty this weekend, was overflown with screwed up sheets of paper.

"How was the exhibition?" Her papa asked.

Immediately the question jolted her out of her musings and made the corners of her mouth quirk into a grin.

"Oh, papa, you should have been there. There were so many people viewing the art. It was amazing," she enthused.

"And your painting was well received?" He enquired, raising his eyebrows in a hopeful manner. He'd always been her biggest supporter, truly believing in her skills.

Alice bit into her lower lip. She hated to disappoint her papa and felt guilty that she could not answer the question which had seemed the most important thing to her about a week ago. Of course he had not known how things had changed since then.

"Frankly, I don't know," she confessed. "I ran into Robin before I got there. However, she said she liked it. She even memorised the title! Can you believe it?"

Her papa gave a snigger and the image of him swayed slightly to the side. 

After straightening the mobile on his end again, Alice noticed him wearing the crooked smile of his. The knowing one. 

Wryly he asked, "Shall I expect a lot of swooning over this woman rather than anything about the exhibition in your letter?"

"Papa!" Alice yelped. Her cheeks grew uncontrollably warm.

"Sorry, luv. I am just teasing you." His crooked smirk softened. Hard curves of mirth changed into smooth lines of endearment. His blue eyes – as blue as hers she was told – glinted like sapphires. "I have never seen you as cheerful as this about anyone before."

"That's because I had not met Robin until last Sunday," Alice argued.

He smirked wholeheartedly. "Are you seeing each other then?"

Immediately her heart bounced.

 Once. 

Twice. 

Blood pumped through her veins. A motor race inside her body. She could hear the rush roaring inside her ears.

"I –," Alice licked her lips nervously. "I haven't rang her up yet."

A deep frown forced his eyebrows down. "Why didn't you?"

Alice knew that if there was one person on this planet that she could be completely honest with, it was her papa, the man who had buried his dreams and his future for her. Solely for her. Her chest heaved with a sigh. "I am scared she might find me weird. Like anyone before did."

His face grew larger on the screen as he leaned forward. With a rigorous voice forged by determination he told her, "My luv, you are the most astonishing and beautiful person who'd ever walked on earth. How could a smart woman like the person you've described, like this Robin Mills, how could someone like this not see that?" He shook his head. "Don't," he uttered with emphasis, "give up before trying."

Tears flooded her eyes. A broken smile was all she could do as her love and gratefulness to this man, who had never given up on her, flooded into her. "Thank you, papa," she croaked.

He smiled in kind but looked very tired. The ceases in his face seemed to have deepened during the short time they talked. Alice knew, while she had started her day, he was almost through with his.

"I'll better let you rest now," Alice muttered.

"I'm fine. It's barely evening," her father objected.

"I insist," Alice responded. "Don't worry, I'll keep you updated even if I have to use that bloodily bothersome mobile app."

"That's fair enough," he released a little puff through his nose and smiled brilliantly at her. "Have a great day, Starfish."

The corners of her mouth lifted on their own at the term of endearment. "And you a great evening, papa."

Like always when they rang off, Alice felt a little bit empty afterwards. She stared at the screen of her mobile until it turned black. Her reflection, looked back at her with a scowl.

Wagging her head, Alice shook off the shadows crouching inside her mind. 

Her papa was right. She should call Robin. 

Robin was not shallow. She would not find Alice weird.

Taking a deep breath she unlocked her mobile and scrolled through the contacts. All the way down to the letter "R".

Her jaw dropped open as her gaze rushed over the register. 

No contact named Robin was there.

There were just a few contacts starting with "R" like the Rollin' Bayou, another yellow food truck which had grown important to Alice. Not only because of its kind owner but also the delicious titbits. 

Also there was her supervisor for foreign students, R. Weaver. But no Robin or Robin Mills or Robin M. or R. Mills was to be found.

Irritated Alice scrolled upwards again. Perhaps Robin had saved her contact with her surname first. It would be strange. But Alice always expected the strange.

But except for the phone numbers for "My college", "My home", "My number" and one of her flatmates whose name was Mary, there was nothing there.

She was sure she had seen Robin press "save" before returning the phone to her. So why was it that the number had gone missing? 

Did mobiles swallow phone numbers like washing machines swallowed socks?

Or was it that Robin had saved a fake contact or simply saved an already existing one?

No.

No, Robin was honest.

Or had seemed so.

But how could anyone think up stories like the ones Robin had told her?

No, Robin was honest. Alice simply knew she was. 

There had to be a problem with her phone or something. Perhaps there was an alternate universe and all the socks, dotted and striped, formed a huge pile and above them lost numbers swirled in the air.

Anyhow, Alice needed to find another way to contact Robin Mills. The question was how.

An idea flared up in her like a bonfire.

Bouncing back from her worn-out mattress and onto her feet, Alice pounced towards her cupboard and pulled out a sheet of paper from a stash.

Since she was a small girl she'd learned to sort her thoughts and ideas with the aid of lists. It was due to one of her teachers at primary school who had been adamant about her having to be tested, that she had been sent to psychotherapy and learned this helpful strategy.

Pressing her lips tightly together, she started to make a list of things she knew about Robin, scribbling words with vigour.

It took her, in the end, five sheets of paper – four after having crossed out every point starting with adjectives like beautiful, gorgeous and lovely too many times to the point of illegibility and one because of a marmalade accident whilst a break – and a tour to empty the dustbin to finish the list.

Grinning at the result she started her research on the points.

A large portion of the rest of the day and the next she invested in narrowing down possible leads to find Robin.

It was on Monday that Alice finally admitted to herself that she might would never see Robin again.

In the phone directory of Seattle had been thousands of people called Mills but no Robin Mills and without knowing her mother's or cousin's first names it was to no avail.

There weren't many other points giving any clue on how to find Robin. Knowing that Robin seemed to like the colour green, wasn't allergic to anything contained in hot dogs or toffee, had a college degree and was fan of the local American football team did not help. The only hints that had been able to provide some valuable information had been her aunt's restaurant and that Robin was a hobby archer. But still the list of places was too long to follow.

It was hopeless.

Robin Mills was lost to Alice.

Perhaps that was how it was meant to be...

With the realisation came the exhaustion. 

On Monday she dragged herself around; to the seminars and to work afterwards. Feeling disappointed and tired her spirit was tarnished.

When Alice finally closed up Hatterdashery in the afternoon – Jefferson, her boss Jefferson Chapelier, had left earlier because of an appointment – she planned for a calm evening, hopefully not having to see one of her flatmates or anyone else.

Without her papa Alice was alone. And right now, that's what she wanted to be.

She jumped when a fast melody rang out of nowhere and a woman started singing about a looking glass and taking the wrong pills. It took two seconds for Alice to recognise it was her own bloody ringtone, an old  _Florence + The Machine_  song. 

She blinked at the screen. Almost nobody ever, except her papa, called her.

It said, Nobin was calling.

Nobin?

Who was Nobin?

Alice did not know anyone named Nobin. Was it even a name? How did it even get inside her contact list?

She frowned at the screen and wanted to dismiss the call, when she suddenly realised who it could be – 

N - obin... R - obin... 

It could be Robin!

Her hands started shaking thanks to the rush of excitement fuming inside her head and steaming downwards through her heart to her arms and legs.

It could be Robin.

Hope, warm and soothing, followed after the sudden storm of exuberance and Alice remembered that her vibrating and roaring mobile rested in her hand awaiting her response.

With a swipe of her index finger she picked up and raised the phone to her ear. 

"Robin?" She asked unable to simmer down the hope in her voice. "Is that you?"

“Alice,” a familiar, smooth voice breathed. “Hi, how are you?”

It was Robin!

She had not lost Robin and Robin hasn't gone missing.

“Great!” Alice cheered. “I am so glad you called.”

“Didn't you –” Robin paused briefly. “Didn't you have my number?”

The corners of her mouth curled even more, to an almost impossible extent. All this time she did have Robin's number and Robin truly had wanted her to call her. “I did. But I did not know it was yours,” she explained to the other woman and added tongue-in-cheek, “Nobin.”

“What?” Robin uttered.

Alice giggled cheerily. Of course, Robin couldn't understand the joke. “You wrote Nobin instead of Robin.”

“Oh,” Robin huffed. A few seconds later she breathed out lowly, “Ohhhh, no.”

“Don't worry. Now I know I did not lose you! Do you have time to meet? I closed up Hatterdashery,” Alice rambled and sank her teeth into her lower lip, eager for the reply.

“Yeah, yeah, I have,” Robin said sounding very breathless. Perhaps she was walking. “Actually, I am downtown right now. Let me check something.”

“Alright.” Alice nodded and waited with her mobile pressed closely against her ear. Bouncing back and forth on the heels of her boots she revelled in the knowledge that she would see Robin. Soon.

Her heart jumped when Robin told her in the confident voice of hers, “I can be at Hatterdashery in 15.”

“Wonderful! I'll wait for you,” Alice exclaimed. The full blown grin was starting to hurt her cheeks.

“See you in a bit,” Robin stated before hanging up.

Alice felt a flutter in her chest. The bleak street looked a lot more colourful now. The sparkling green of the trees caught her eyes.

Green like hope. Green like Robin's eyes. Alice sniggered mirthfully.

Leaning her back against the shop window, she tried to stay patient. It was not an easy task.

Knowing Robin would be there soon, made the wait much harder. She turned her head from one side to another, unsure from which direction Robin would come from while keeping her mind busy by watching the people passing by.

She'd played a game and invented stories about them based on how they looked and what they carried with them.

There was Grimgard, the Fuming Stockbroker, who lost his last bloody encounter, Cherio, the Beggar with the Limping Shopping Trolley, who whistled to celebrate his last victorious hunt, and Faith, the Blue Haired Punk, who rolled on her skateboard on steam and dreams.

Alice felt the hairs on her neck stand up all at once.

Torn out of her daydream a shudder rushed over her spine.

What – ?

...

Somebody watched her.

Differently than she did in her game.

Lurking and observant.

She felt their gaze as if it crawled over her skin.

Her heart sped up.

Back straightening and eyes racing, Alice searched for the person watching her.

None of the persons walking by seemed to look at her or even take notice of her.

She gulped hard on the clump of anxiety constricting her throat.

A smokey and sweet smell lingered in the air, prompting some sort of recognition.

Just like that the sensation stopped.

Inhaling sharply Alice looked up and down the street again. That was when she spotted an oddly shaped shadow disappearing behind a corner to her left. A corner from behind which Robin appeared in the next moment.

Alice puffed out a breath. The icy tingle crawling beneath her skin remained but relief poured into her heart, distracting her from the awful sensation.

Perhaps she had just imagined it.

She was prone to imagine things.

Pushing away from the shopping window, Alice called the other woman when she was getting close. “Robin!”

“Painter girl, hi,” Robin replied with one of her smirks. It was more gorgeous than Alice could have pictured in her most vivid memory. A tender glow sparkled in those olive green eyes.

“How have you been?” Alice asked falling into step with the other woman.

“Good,” Robin nodded. “Mostly good. And you?”

“Great,” Alice cheered before she remembered that the last two days she had not been very great at all. “Well until I discovered I couldn't find your number. I tried to find you elsewhere but you are like a needle in a haystack.”

“First time somebody called me the needle within Seattle's hay,” Robin joked with a grin. Her rosy lips spread over her face in a perfect curve.

Alice grinned. She had not known how much she could miss Robin's sense of humour within a week after having barely experienced it once. She would love to listen to more of Robin's clever remarks. “How about a coffee?”

“No coffee, please,” Robin moaned. “I just had two cups.”

“Then how about – ?” Alice started but no idea crossed her mind. She should really learn more about Seattle before meeting Robin the next time. For the lack of ideas, she mused out loud, “Hmm... Another hot dog?”

“We could just walk. If you want, I could walk you home,” the woman, who found her again, offered with a tiny shrug.

“It's two and a half miles from here,” Alice objected. She did not want for Robin to feel obliged to walk her despite distance. Alice would not expect Robin to walk this long with her, although she’d liked to.

After burying her hands in the pockets of her trousers, Robin argued, “Well, we are kinda walking already and we could catch up on the way.” She licked her lips – a motion which stirred fuzzy sensations right beneath Alice's stomach – and continued, “Plus, if you don't mind I'd like to know where you live so I know where to find you in case somebody of us gets lost again.”

Alice could not possible argue against that. Losing Robin again would be awful and she liked the idea of Robin coming to see her more often, as often as she'd liked even. They'd never lose each other again like this.

With conviction Alice cheered, “That's a marvellous idea!”

Grinning at each other they headed north through the streets of Seattle.

Like a bell ringing in her head, Alice recalled something from their first conversation. Intrigued she asked, “Were you able to smooth things out with your mother?”

“I did. Thanks to your advice I braced up and faced her. She has not turned me into a flying monkey,” Robin joked and Alice recalled her comparing her mother to the Wicked Witch of the West.

“It's not love, peace and harmony but we are working on it,” Robin continued with a shrug.

Alice felt her heart lifting as her eyes traced the little, hopeful smile on Robin's lips. “That's nice. I am happy for you.”

“Also thanks to you I finally understood what I want to do,” Robin said while evading a lamp post and walking much closer to Alice afterwards.

Alice could feel her heartbeat through her chest and her throat. Robin definitely was a beautiful woman up close. “What do you want to do?”

Something swam in Robin's eyes and Alice could not tell what it was. Perhaps she was looking into the future. Gaze pointed ahead Robin told her, “Work for the people. Solve crimes, find missing persons and stuff.”

Alice tried to picture Robin in the uniform of a woman police constable. The vision made Alice feel conflicted. Robin would certainly look gorgeous in any uniform. Beyond doubt. But it was not a perfect fit. The colouration felt off. Like this uniform was not meant to be hers. Concerned Alice asked, “You want to be a constable?”

“Nope, not working for the police but with the police as in becoming a private investigator,”

“So you work for justice while doing your own thing?” Alice could picture that.

“Kinda,” Robin tilted her head nonchalantly. “That was the major idea.”

In a flash of inspiration Alice claimed, “You're like Robin Hood then.”

Eyebrows sank so deep they barely hovered above the green of her eyes. With a deep frown Robin complained, “Please, don't call me that.”

“Why not?” Alice asked blinking in surprise. She could not imagine how anyone would not want to be Robin Hood.

“For starters I am not a man. Also I am not British and I don't steal,” Robin argued with one raised eyebrow.

Her tone was contemptuous, as if all those points were something rubbishy. Alice felt her heart drop a little and she felt the need to defend the British legend of Robin Hood, the generous thief. “None of these points are bad. Are they? You don't have to be either one of the two first points. The last one is a controversial one, I admit, but Robin Hood gave his spoils to the poor so that makes it good again.”

“They are not bad.” Exhaling a deep sigh Robin paused before she finally explained, “It's just that except for my first name, archery and a strong sense of justice there is nothing that's similar between me and the legendary Robin Hood. It makes me feel uncomfortable to be compared to him. And no, that's not the first time somebody did. Imagine all the jokes I had to endure after I started archery.”

Understanding now what troubled Robin, Alice own dread slipped away. The sound of contempt hadn't been caused by those points Robin was missing but because she was missing them.

Alice could relate to the sentiment. Growing up with ideals that she could not live up to because she was not like other girls had fed on her insecurities. So she tried to cheer up Robin somehow and explained, “Perhaps you’ve missed the point then. Everything about Robin Hood goes back to justice. The archery and even the stealing. Robin Hood stands for an ideal. Not for his acts.”

“I guess, you're right. Somehow,” Robin agreed with a shrug.

The motion was less laid-back and more tentative than Alice had seen her express before. “You have a heart of justice. Just like Robin Hood. That's all that is important,” Alice tried to comfort her.

“Maybe, in some way,” Robin said and started to sneered. “On the other hand I don't have merry men or a Maid Marian either.”

“If you want, I could be your merry woman or your maid Marian,” Alice offered with a grin. In her mind she pictured herself and Robin on all kinds of adventures. Sword fights, close escapades, thrilling getaways, horse rides and starry nights. Side by side. With Robin.

It took a few steps until Alice noticed that Robin wasn't walking beside her any longer.

“Robin?” Alice looked over her shoulder.

Clearing her throat, Robin fell into step with her again. A red hue coloured her cheeks. After a short chuckle she huffed, “Sorry, I – my mind drifted. Just had a sudden need for air.”

Alice remembered how breathless Robin sounded at the phone. What if Robin was poorly or had some chronic illnesses? Worried she stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Perhaps we shouldn't walk then. Is it asthma? Do you have your inhaler?”

To her surprise Robin guffawed and shook her head.“I don't have asthma.”

“Are you sure you're alright?” Alice frowned at her confused. Even more so when Robin stopped walking. Again.

Had Alice said something wrong?

Her lower lip dropped when a breathtaking smile bloomed on Robin's face and her eyes softened to a tender glow of pastel green.

“Alice Jones, you are without any doubt somebody very special,” she breathed out in velvety tunes.

Alice's heart soared and her skin prickled as a flame of rapture coursed through her blood. Heat exploded on her cheeks and climbed up her face, up to the points of her ears. A stuttered, “Thank you,” was all she could muster in return.

Some exchanged smiles, shy brushes of hair and bites into the lip later Alice recovered from the gleeful blast.

For the rest of the walk they talked. Alice told her about her work, her call with her papa – of course not in every detail! – and where she studied, in which Robin appeared to be quite interested for some reason unbeknown to Alice.

Robin told her about going to New York the next week to get first hand information from her cousin's birth mother. The thought that Alice wouldn't be able to see Robin for a whole week tasted sour. But it was made up with the very exciting stories about Robin's family.

Alice learned that Robin's aunt was not the biological mother of her cousin Henry but adopted him. The NYC mother, like Robin called her, had given birth to him but given him up for adoption.

Both sounded like strong women, one for raising a child alone and the other for giving up their child to give it its best chance unlike Alice's own birth mother who selfishly abandoned her.

It was a curious family, the likes of which had been unheard in Nuneham Courtenay. But to Alice this curious family sounded like a paragon of liberty. The only thing that had been accepted and considered normal in Nuneham Courtenay was the constellation father-mother-children.

Alice liked the idea of becoming a mother without bearing a child or, perhaps, even becoming a wife without marrying a husband.

The possibilities seemed limitless!

Her papa always used to say, only in limitless spaces like the sea or the sky one could find true freedom.

Alice hoped to meet one these strong women one day. Obviously, the women in Robin's life had a strong impact on her, having shaped her into the confident woman she was tosay. A woman who was not afraid to voice her opinion. A woman who was quick to smirk. A woman who cherished honesty and truth.

'Perfect,' rang through Alice's head and she remembered how she told Robin, nobody was perfect, until she'd looked into olive green eyes binding her under a spell.

“Say,” Robin startled her out of her line of thoughts as they stopped in front of the entrance to the lofty building of Cornish Commons. The glasses, entrapped in rectangular frames, reflected their shapes like mirrors. “Would you like to meet again? I thought we could settle a date, so we knew when to meet without playing the Chicken game or Hide and Seek. Neither one of us seems to be very good at them, to be honest.”

There was no question whether Robin was perfect or not. To Alice and for Alice, she was perfect. Her sharp tongue, her cleverness, the way she talked challenged and stimulated Alice's mind. The green of her eyes sparkling with hope like fairies dancing above a greyish haze wafted a hum inside Alice.

To Alice it seemed like a miracle, that a woman like Robin Mills would want to see her again but she could not deny herself any further second being close to her as long as she let her.

“I'd like that,” she told her perfect woman in a croaky whisper and enjoyed the grin that spread on the face.

“How about this Saturday? We could go to the movies.”

For a second Alice blinked trying to discern Robin's suggestion.

She felt giddy but also mournful when she understood that Robin wanted to go to the cinema with her. “I cannot say. I have to ask Jefferson first. My boss. He had given me a day off last Saturday. I don't know what time I could make it, if he needs me.”

The grin deflated on the brunette's face in kind.

“Oh, okay then you just give me a call if you have time,” Robin smacked the palms of her hands against her trousers and her lips together. “Otherwise, I guess, we'll see each other when I am back from New York.”

“Okay then,” Alice nodded with a heavy heart. “Goodbye, Robin and thank you for walking me home.”

“Bye,” Robin waved and turned around.

The moment Alice saw her back turned to her, her heart started to clench. She hated not knowing when she would see the other woman again.

“Robin?” She called after the retrieving figure even before realising what she wanted to say. She waited until the other woman looked back. “Do you like beignets?”

“Can't say I ever had them. Why do you ask?” Robin called back.

“Thursdays is beignets night. Do you want to come?” Alice asked. A mix of hope and fear made her rock back and forth on her heels.

Robin smirked and it was the most wondrous thing Alice had ever seen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Rollin' Bayou – And here I ended up actually using something belonging to Hype-town. Needed names starting with “R”. But I found a way to squeeze it into the plot.
> 
> 2) Jefferson – While I know that Jefferson is the Mad Hatter from Wonderland of OUATIW and OUAT s1 and not the Wonderland of our Alice, I a) liked him and b) personally am not a fan of too many named Ocs in fanfiction. There will be at least one, though, for plot reasons.
> 
> 3) Fun Fact - I've actually looked up Mills in the phone directory of Seattle: 4k results for Mills and actually no “Robin Mills” living in Seattle. Alice truly would not have been able to find her. ':D
> 
> 4) Hatterdashery - This also refers to an actual place in Seattle. It's the hat shop is in the 1st Ave which Alice mentioned in the second chapter. I just had to use it. Just look at the name. XD
> 
> 5) Florence + the Machine – A British and awesome band. (Recommended!) The song hinted on is “Rabbit Heart” (2009) which not only refers to Alice in Wonderland but bears some indications for this story.
> 
> 6) The walk from where I placed the exhibition to Hatterdashery takes 15 minutes according to Google Maps. I bet it took Robin 12. ;P
> 
> **  
> **  
> Next update: 07/27/18  
> 


	6. And It Was All Yellow aka Operation Big Apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Henry make a field trip.

 

"Is this it? Sitting around in a car for hours?" Robin moaned while knocking the back of her head against the headrest of the yellow bug Henry's NYC mom, Emma Swan, drove.

Admittedly, it was a very cool car but the rush of excitement had long left Robin; presumably puffed out an hour ago when she had been forced to stare over the dashboard at the bulky, gray cube of the Hotel Hilton. Which was exactly what she had done for the last hour. She might dream of the blue logo tonight.

"It's one of the things you might need to do as well, kid," Emma commented from the driver seat after taking a bite of her burger. A glob of sauce dripped down onto the wrapping paper spread over her lap. It hardly evaded Emma's, arm clad in a red leather jacket.

Robin could not believe that this was the most thrilling thing that had happened for the amount of a freaking hour.

"Wow, I imagined being a bail bondsperson to be cooler than this." She snorted. "I hope being a PI is cooler than this."

"Pshh," Emma hushed and let the burger drop into the wrapping paper to be reunited with the glob of sauce. "There he comes. See the man leaving the building?"

Leaning forwards Robin spotted a male person, average height, dark hair and clothed in a suit exiting the hotel through the glass doors.

"Uhuu." She nodded unfazed.

"Describe what you see," Emma told her, keeping her hazel eyes fixed on the target. They looked young and inquisitive in a face marked by wrinkles of age.

"What? Why?" Robin grimaced and frowned at Emma. She was so not convinced that this had anything to do with the field of work of a private investigator.

"Come on, Robin. Just do it," Henry whimpered from the back of the car. He'd been much more and way longer excited about this than Robin, even called this whole thing by a name, Operation Big Apple. It made Robin wonder if he secretly wanted to pursue a career in criminal justice or if it was just an author thing to get excited about stuff like this.

"Fine," she sighed and squinted her eyes at the man standing at the sidewalk, likely waiting for a cab. "He wears a black suit, perfect fit, possibly tailored. The watch on his arm looks hella expensive, too," she knitted her eyebrows together because something in the picture did not match up. "But there is something off about him."

"Why is that?" Emma asked.

"I don't know," Robin mumbled and shook her head to sort out her thoughts. "His hair is disheveled. It looks like he tried to fix it but couldn't because of all the gel stuck to it and one leg of his pants is way more wrinkly than the other as if he held his leg into a wind tunnel or well," Robin scrunched up her nose in revulsion, "maybe something rubbed hard on it."

"Good."

Good? Robin frowned at Henry's mum.

What was good about this? It was suggestive. That was what it was.

"What now?" she asked, refocusing on the mission – or rather operation if one choose to play mystery games with Henry Mills.

"Give me the camera," Emma spread out her arm and wiggled her fingers while still staring out of the windshield.

Retrieving the camera from the bag Emma had given her, Robin asked with some rekindled curiosity, "What are you making photos of?"

The much older blonde – a darker shade than Alice's hair, Robin had noticed during the long hour of waiting – took the device and pointed the lens into the direction of the guy. "You'll see in three, two, one," she counted backwards and clicked the button a few times just as the man pulled something from inside his jacket and put it on his fingers.

It was a ring.

Robin blinked in surprise and whipped her head around to look at a slightly smirking Emma. "Did you know that?"

"After I was hired I went to his wife to gather intel on him, she accused him of having cheated on her before disappearing. Based on his former credit card billing and the frequency he spent in this hotel it was an easy guess," Emma explained and raised the camera like a trophy. "Thanks to this I have more proof and a nice leverage."

"What's next?"

"Now that I am almost sure on what he is doing with his fake ID, I wanna know who he is doing it with. Maybe point back their activities to him or get them to talk so I know where to find him. I am very sure we'll soon see a woman walking through that door with a poorly fixed make-up."

All three of them stared to the entrance of the hotel.

Robin could almost taste the suspense floating in the air.

Maybe it was reinforced by the lack of any excitement moments ago but right now she was caught up in this operation.

It did not take long for a figure to emerge, walking through the large doors of the hotel.

It was no woman, though.

It was a blonde man, easily just as disheveled as the other, throwing a guilty look into the direction the other had disappeared to before turning to the opposite one.

"Woooh," Robin exclaimed in surprise.

She loved a good twist.

"I did not expect that," Emma muttered dryly while making more photos.

"It's probably safe to say, that this marriage won't get a second chance," Henry commented from the backseat and Robin sent him a playful glare through the rear view mirror.

Fifteen minutes later, the Beetle stood across a dark alley, into which Emma had pulled the blonde guy in, not by force but with a smile.

While Emma squeezed the guy for information about the current hideout of her target, Robin and Henry stayed behind. Watching the blonde woman, who was around 50 years old but still extremely good-looking, making a move on a guy who she could very much assume was gay and at least ten years younger, was inspiring.

Much quicker than the stakeout Emma was finished with him in minutes and returned to the car with a dry comment as she slid into the front seat, "Still got it. Didn't even need to mention the pictures."

Robin nodded appreciatively.

Emma was not bad. Not bad at all.

As the older woman drove them through the streets of Manhatten, Robin thought that maybe, this job wasn't as boring as it seemed at first.

Despite both their complains Emma insisted on Robin and Henry to stay in the car – again – when they tracked down the culprit inside a bar and disappeared into the expensive looking, high-class establishment.

Bored Robin watched the door fall close after Emma disappeared into it and puckered her lips.

She wouldn't call herself impatient. But sitting still on a seat doing nothing was not the easiest things to do. To kill time she asked Henry how to make a website, because she would need one if she was going through with this PI thing. While listening to his explanation, only half of which, she got, she kept her eyes on the bar.

A few moments later the door flew open.

The subject stumbled out of it and ran down the street.

Robin jumped in her seat and grabbed the car door handle, ready to block his way.

Just in that moment she saw Emma rushing after him.

She knocked him easily off his feet

Robin gasped and buried her fingers into the seat cover.

The guy squirmed and struggled beneath Emma's weight and her grip.

Seemingly too much.

Emma threw a punch into his face which made him wail like a banshee. He raised his hand in surrender and tapped his fingers against his reddened nose.

Wide eyed, Robin watched the whole scene.

A huge grin spread on her face, when Emma pulled the guy with a bleeding nose from the ground and jammed handcuffs around his wrists.

"Now that was cool!" Robin cheered. Turning around she saw Henry rolling his eyes at her.

***

Two hours later, in the evening Robin sat alone on the balcony overlooking Manhattan from Emma's apartment high above the concrete. Basically she had excused herself to give them some bonding time but she'd also liked to be alone for a moment, while they cooked.

Red tail lights, illuminated street signals, lighted apartments in skyscrapers. In the darkness of the night and the coloring of artificial lights the city did not look much different from Seattle center. More busy, louder, more gray and black. Well, definitely more cabs and more noises and more skyscrapers.

Scratch that, the big apple looked so much different.

New York was cool but Robin missed her home.

She missed the stupid Space Needle she could usually care less about.

She missed the green streets of Seattle.

She missed the sight out of Henry's windows, onto a larger patch of trees behind a car repair shop in Greenwood, blocking the sight of everything except for the light blue sky.

She missed having the opportunity to spend time with Alice.

Robin sighed and sank lower into the loveseat.

They had seen each other again on the so called Beignet night. Alice had introduced Robin to Tiana, a very friendly and beautiful black woman who owned the food truck Rollin' Bayou and appeared to know Alice quite well. It had made Robin wonder, if Alice usually nourished herself with takeout. Then again they had seen each other shortly on Saturday evening and Robin's musing was confirmed: Alice did eat a lot of takeout.

Alice had needed to work and they had decided against going to the movies but hung out in some restaurant close to Cornish and Robin couldn't have been happier. In hindsight watching a movie had been a stupid idea, motivated by rules of dating. No movie could be as exciting as sitting across Alice and listen to her vivid stories and watch her face brighten and fall like a spectacle. Albeit short their meeting had been Oscar-worthy.

Also Robin had been able to continue her mind map of Alice's likes and dislikes: She liked playing chess and tracing clouds just as much as painting. Her favorite food were marmalade sandwiches. She disliked rudeness, animal abuse, every form of inequality and canned mushrooms; in that order by Alice.

Lost in her memories of the captivating blonde she almost did not notice that her cell phone started buzzing.

In her mind Robin immediately pictured sky blue eyes and a cheerful grin. With her heart drumming pleasurably and a flutter in her stomach she reached for her phone.

It was her mom.

Grin dropping for several reasons of disappointment – granted, it not being Alice was the most crucial after thinking about her – she opened the message.

 _Guess what I had to hear through my sister, who heard it from her son, what my own daughter did not tell me about?_ Her mom had written.

Oh no. Henry didn't, did he?

Robin jerked her head around and sent him a glare through the window.

Unfortunately, he did not look back but seemed very busy cooking while Emma sipped on a bottle of beer leaning against the counter watching his rehearsed moves with a spatula.

Texting back Robin tried to stay vague, not knowing how much her mom knew about Robin's current plans for the future, _Care to elaborate?_

 _I hope you are less secretive with the woman you are apparently dating_ , her mom instantly replied.

Oh...

So her mom knew about Alice.

Robin would definitely need to give Henry a smack against the back of his head for telling her aunt about her latest – acquaintance?

But that thought became less important now. Robin's stomach sank when she contemplated on what to tell her mom.

She had always been able to talk to her.

Growing up her mom, besides driving her crazy from time to time, was her number one confidante.

She had been the first and only person Robin had shown her weaknesses to; from weeping bitterly about the death of her turtle Toby to throwing a furious fit over a grounding, the reasons of which were pretty reasonable to Robin now – you simply should not steal your mom’s stocking to use as slingshot and then catapult stones against the neighbor’s wall. It was so not cool.

Her mom had been there for Robin when she'd come home with a black eye after one of the mean kids made fun of her because she had no dad.

And her mom had been understanding when Robin confessed to her she liked girls more than boys. A lot more.

Her mom had been the one person to show Robin strength and to teach her self-esteem.

But after the chasm bashed between them, Robin was not sure if she could cross this divide.

She wanted to, though.

She wanted to tell her mom everything about Alice. About the first person who had knocked the breath out of Robin's chest and who had made her want to go out of her way just to see her again.

She started to write, _Her name is Alice and she is –_

Robin swallowed hard. Her thumb levitated above the keys.

She wished she could; but knew she couldn't.

She deleted the message before continuing.

The space in between was too hallow, filled with the emptiness of uncertainty.

Plus, if she was being honest, she was not sure about the status of Alice and her either.

She and Alice had something going on but neither of them had questioned nor confirmed the romantic nature of their meetings. What if it was all in her mind and she projected her own emotions onto the glow of Alice's eyes when she looked at her? What if Alice only wanted a friend? A friend, Robin knew, she needed.

It wasn't that Robin would cut off their connection, if that was everything Alice wanted. She would see it through even if it would be a serious form of self-flagellation looking at those pinkish lips and not wanting to kiss them. Maybe even impossible. But she could definitely try to keep herself from kissing them – she guessed.

All in all Robin was screwed pretty much.

Clicking her tongue, she decided to take the low road and summarize for her mom the things speaking against the phrasing “dating”. _Mom, I would have told you but we aren't actually dating. We met like four times. I don't know if she even wants to date me_.

Again it did not long for her mom to answer. _Self-consciousness? Well, that's a new shade on you_.

Robin rolled her eyes. It was so typical of her mom to tease her. typed in, _Can we talk about this when I am back home_?

This time it took her mom longer to reply after Robin sent the message.

 _Of course, Green Bean. When you are home, we talk_ , her mom wrote.

Robin frowned at the screen, eyes glued to the nickname. Her mom hadn't called her that in years.

Nostalgia pressed down onto her chest as if somebody sat on it.

Truth be told, she wanted to go home but also return to her mom. She wanted to finally settle things with her, so Robin would be able to tell her all about this new, partly scary but more so exciting experience.

Never would she forget what her own mother did to her father. But there was nobody who could set off the journey of forgiveness than herself. If she wanted to filling the hole that the revelation had left between them, she needed to start digging instead of burying.

“Here, kid.”

Robin looked up to see Emma, who shed her red leather jacket and was now sporting a red tank top and blue denim – seriously, how did she look like this being so old? – and held two bottles of beer, one offered to Robin.

“Thanks,” Robin took the dark bottle and clinked it against Emma's before taking a big gulp. The beer tasted bitterly with a sweet note at the end.

Emma did not say a thing for a while and leaned against the railing, approximately fifteen stories above New York's sidewalk.

Robin raised a questioning brow at her, inwardly praying it wasn't Henry who sent her. He was always so big-brother-ishly concerned.

Tapping two fingers against the bottle Emma smirked at her and finally said, “Look, I wanted to talk to you about the PI thing. I think you've got what it takes. Just like bounty hunter being a PI is not an easy business. You can't be afraid of confrontation. You have to have effective communication skills and be investigative, pay attention to the details. All of that I can see in you.”

“But?”

“But there are almost no jobs that don't come with a price. Especially in the private sector. Most stuff you'll do as PI is fill in and sort paper work and fear for not being able to pay the bills. If you think, the gain outweighs the pain, good. If not, you better look for something else. There is no cherry picking and this is a too tough business to be half-heartedly invested in it.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Robin leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Sure,” the older woman replied with a nod.

“Are all the assignments like this? Prying on married men from inside a car? Do you ever feel like you do something meaningful? Like you truly make a change?” Robin inquired, hoping Emma would give her a sort of satisfying answer, and ignored the buzzing of her phone.

“Sure there are those jobs,” Emma nodded and pressed her lips close together. “Years ago I caught someone who left his wife and child after spending all his money. They were drowning in all of his debts he left them behind with. Once I caught him, they were relieved from the charges. The wife came to thank me in person.” Emma flashed her smile before her lips ceased into the opposite direction, “On the other hand there are always those cases in which you feel like you work for the bad guys by taking in somebody who needs help.”

Eyeing her, Robin sat back. She wasn't sure if this answer was satisfying enough for her. But becoming a PI had been the first idea Robin had ever felt comfortable with. Did it matter, that not everything about the job was good? Which job truly was?

“How do you know it’s the right path?” Robin asked.

“How do you ever know?” the older woman replied with a shrug. “By walking it, of course.”

The image of a yellow brick road rose to Robin’s mind. She wondered if this was her yellow brick road or just a dead end.

“But if it's that what you want,” Emma continued, “helping people, I think you chose wisely in wanting to becoming a PI over a bail agent.”

Robin nodded and ran her thumb over the mouth piece of the bottle, letting it run circles like her thoughts.

“Later one is more about kicking asses,” Emma joked.

Robin huffed, relieved by the blonde's latest assessment. Raising two eyebrows and the corners of her lips into a grin she replied cockily, “I could kick some asses, too.”

The older woman chuckled and tilted back her beer, taking a deep swallow Robin could hear from her position. Wiping her mouth the blonde said, “Sure you do, kid. And you probably will,” and gave Robin a wink.

“Thank you, Emma.” It occurred to Robin that she had not shown her gratitude for the effort Henry's mom had made for her. “For showing me what it looks like on the streets and telling me the truth.”

“You're welcome,” Emma uttered. “Honestly, I've expected these days to be fun because of Henry but I must say, you are a nice addition.”

“Honestly, it's fun to be here,” Robin replied with a smirk.

Emma patted her once on the shoulder upon passing her. Within the door frame she stopped to look back at Robin, “Wanna come in?”

“No, I think I'll stay and savor the big apple's odor until dinner's ready,” Robin breathed out cheekily.

“Kay, kid.”

Sipping on her own beer, Robin looked to the limited skyline of Manhattan. She had to lean forward and turn her head to see a few stars.

It appeared to her that in three hours Alice would be able to see the same sky. The very thought reminded her that her phone had vibrated a few moments ago. What if it was Alice?

Looking at her phone, Robin's heart froze and a shiver ran down her spine.

Alice had sent her two messages.

Opening the app with shaking hands, Robin grinned even before reading them.

 _I had the most curious call by the CoCA today_ , Alice had written, directly followed by, _Do you happen to know something about it, Margo?_

A laugh rumbled through Robin's chest and bubbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Feeling all humorous again Robin countered, _It's Margot with a “t”_.

She was kinda proud of the alias, she had come up with. It was inspired by the actress Margot Robbie, who was cast for the role of Maid Marian picking up Robin Hood’s bow.

West had been an addition she made when she remembered that she had called her mother the Wicked Witch of the West, making herself Wicked Witch's daughter.

Luckily she did not have to wait long for Alice to reply, _And I thought I was a bit too extreme at times_.

Here it was, a window of opportunity to address their status, if there was a status at all. It was time to take a leap and jump through it.

 _Well, let's say when I meet a cute British girl and don't know how to find her, I am ready to take drastic measures_ , Robin wrote and sent the text before she could bail out. After pressing send, doubt blew up in her mind like an airbag going off.

It was way too forward, wasn't it?

The shiver of panic sipped through Robin as she stared at her phone.

Seconds seemed like minutes and minutes like hours as she waited for Alice to reply.

Had it been too much?

She screwed up, didn’t she?

Burying the upper line of teeth into her lower lip, she typed another message, deleting two rash drafts in the procedure before finally setting with, _Are you alright?_ _Hope there aren't repercussions for you. Are there?_

Robin released a sigh of relief when she saw that Alice was typing something.

 _No, it's fine. They said working with artists, they received a lot more curious calls_ , Alice wrote.

While Robin typed in a response, Alice sent her a new text, _It was not even the main reason they called._

Robin deleted her old message and wrote back, _What then?_

_Someone made an offer on my painting!!_

Robin shot up from her seat. So fast she became dizzy.

_That's awesome! Congrats!_

_It is!_ Alice replied. _It's bloody awesome!_

A goofy line of emoticons followed which made Robin snort and her heart soar in a happy songs.

'Not as much as you, painter girl,' Robin thought while grinning at the rectangular device in her hand as substitute.

She was grateful that her momentous delusion of typing in a “N” instead of a “R” – how the hell she could have been so deluded was beyond her. They were not even close on the keyboard – had not gotten into her way of getting closer to Alice.

She could not wait to see her again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Hilton Hotel – The “Hotel Hilton New York Midtown” is in 1335 6th Ave, New York, NY 10019, USA.
> 
> 2) In Once Upon A Time Season 7 Henry actually lives in 23 S King St, Seattle, WA 98104, USA which is actually close to CenturyLink Field (5 min. on foot) but AgentAyu pointed out that it is way too expensive, so I settled Robin and Henry down in Greenwood. Thanks, @AgentAyu!^^
> 
> 3) Toby the Turtle – Refers to a character from the movie “Robin Hood” (1973) by Walt Disney.
> 
> 4) The person Emma speaks about was inspired by Ryan Marlow of Once Upon A Time s1ep01.
> 
> 5) You might notice than I have spread golden nuggets over this story concerning Alice in Wonderland and The Wizard of Oz. Sadly, the Robin Hood myth is a bit more complicated. Many people have written stories about Robin Hood. One of the most influencing work was the one by Howard Pyle. I tried to read it but a) an unconcerned, Robin Hood making pranks, is not the one I want to represent and b) it is no fun read because almost every paragraph starts with “then”.
> 
> 6) The title refers to a song by Coldplay amongst other things .;)


	7. Statures, Kites and Marmalade Sandwiches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice wants to introduce Robin to a friend of hers and they have a date.
> 
> A/N: I accidentally posted a chapter on Monday. ':D Hope nobody was confused. If so, mea culpa!

 

Trust.

Trust had never come easy to Alice.

The only person she had been able to trust without caution had been her papa.

But she remembered how she had to hide herself back in Nuneham Courtenay.

The moment she had crossed the threshold to the world outside, this tiny world outside, which seemed more narrow than the terraced house, she and her father had lived in, she had become small herself.

She remembered how she would greet Mrs. Pooterish on Nuneham's high street, whom everyone in their village called the Duchess because she spouted morals in a pompous way. Everytime Alice had received a heartfelt greeting only to hear words of disdain mumbled thereafter.

She remembered how she befriended the Liddell sisters when she was eight years old. How she'd spent time with them at teacup parties and biscuit tastings. Most vividly she remembered how their mother had forbidden her to come or look at them ever again, after Alice had called one of them pretty and, perhaps, had smiled too brightly, too openly.

Filthy thoughts and unchristian ideas their mother had accused Alice off before chasing her out of the house. None of the two sisters would even look at her afterwards.

Seven and a half years old Alice had not meant to do harm to anyone and she did not understand what she had done wrong; only that she was punished for it.

Alice had learned how to be ashamed of being herself before she learned to ignore the words of repulsion.

Alice had learned how trust can be broken. How this strong and concrete feeling would come fragile in the hands of the one you confided it to.

Bonkers.

Crazy.

Troubled.

Daft.

Mad.

Bizarre.

Insane.

Alice had heard all these words of abhorrence.

Alice had heard them again and again, uttered or spat her way.

Alice had learned to ignore them. To keep herself hidden. Closed off inside the shell of her body.

Now with Robin the world looked differently.

The greyish hue around her had lifted, inviting her to take a step outside.

She was not scared. Not scared at all to show Robin all her colours.

Robin was different to anybody else she had met before. Instead of frowning at Alice's comments or her unleashed enthusiasm, Robin accepted them. More so, she seemed to relish them. What had once been marked as too queer by others was now cherished for its uniqueness.

Alice was accepted for who she was by somebody else than her papa. She did not need to be ashamed with Robin.

And so she had invited Robin to a date, after Robin had returned from New York. One she had prepared all day and was heading to right now on the bus. 

Cheerily she hummed with a basket on her lap and a smile on her face as Seattle rushed by and they crossed Lake Union.

She had asked Robin to meet her halfway after having learned that the other lived all way up north, in Greenwood.

Writing on the phone seemed less demanding to Alice, too, since Robin.

She liked to learn about the brunette who kept challenging her with her eyes, the drop of her voice and the fresh and kind of odd form of wit she displayed. The ideals she believed in...

Apparently things had gone well in New York and Robin was set on becoming a private investigator.

Alice had to stifle a giggle as she got off the bus and walked towards the Aurora bridge, when an image of Robin in a trench coat and suit, a hat lowered deep into her face, appeared in her mind; dress shoes propped up on the desk, arms crossed behind her head. The whole scene was black and white like a film noir. 

But the eyes, the eyes would remain green, gleaming against the grey colour scheme of the black and white contrast. Although Alice hoped no femme fatale would cross Robin's way and give her a hard time or even attempt to seduce her.

She shook her head to dismiss the last picture of a dark-haired, ruby red lipped seductress walking into Robin Mills' office. There was no need for this in their story.

Descending the sixty-two stairs – she had counted them on one of her visits – of the pedestrian underpass, Alice grinned when she saw her friend waiting for her like he always did. 

Beneath the bridge upon a pile of earth sat the one eyed Fremont troll clutching a Volkswagen Beetle. It was one of the special gems of Seattle she had stumbled upon on a day she'd been at her lowest.

 

His surroundings weren't the friendliest of sights. Somebody had carved, "I love Judd" into one of the bridge's concrete pillars her friend guarded. The street in front looked like a tarred chess field. Indefinite lines crossing, one patch looking brighter than its neighbour. It was a huge game of chess that was played – all over the world.

Standing close to her sculptured friend, Alice placed the basket on the ground and climbed onto his right hand, sitting down on the cold concrete of the colossal stature. "How are you doing, old friend?"

She grinned.

Then her neck prickled.

Uncomfortably.

Like it did two weeks ago, when she had waited in front of Hatterdashery. As if she was being observed.

She got aware of the same smokey and sweet scent. It reminded her of black tea.

Feeling watched, Alice sat up and scanned her surroundings.

Cars drove by. A couple walked across the Troll Ave. But nobody looked back at her.

The muscles in her back started to ache from tension. Her teeth ached for how tight she pressed them together

The sensation intensified for a moment and her eyes jumped across the street where bushes lined up next to the pavement. But besides a sign claiming, Fremont Troll Eye Apartments, Alice did not see anything.

And just like it had never been there the sensation stopped.

A frown knitted her eyebrows. Was she imagining things?

It could happen.

From time to time she would see flashes of images, could smell traces of scents and hear whispers of a fantastic world; a world inside her mind, overlapping with the outside world.

Psychoses, her first therapist had called them; Vivid imagination, another.

Her papa had always said, her imagination was her wings and someday she would fly high because of it.

"Hey painter girl," she heard Robin's voice and turned to see her coming in to her right, entering the shadow the bridge cast onto the troll's home.

As always she looked quite fetching.

Robin was more elegant than Alice. Not in the feminine way but in the way her clothes looked perfectly matched. She wore her soft looking brown leather jacket again, a long green plaid shirt, dark blue denim trousers and brown boots – same shade of her jacket, warm and bright. Her build was more athletic, a little more substantial than Alice's delicate figure but far from being unfeminine.

Did Robin even care about femininity?

Alice did not. To her Robin was very beautiful. A beautiful Robin.

Gorgeous, actually. 

The word rang through her mind like a chime of bells and not for the first time Alice wondered, how it came to be that such a woman found an interest in herself. It had to be magic which brought Robin close to her.

"Hi," Alice chirped and jumped up to greet Robin properly. Only for her energy to falter. What was considered proper?

She did not need to wonder for long as Robin wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in a chaste hug. Alice felt tingles weaving a warm and electrically charged blanket beneath her skin. Her heart quivered in her chest even after Robin had already pulled back.

Robin sounded a bit out of breath, when she asked, "Are you telling me now why you wanted to meet here?" She shrugged and stuck her hands into her pockets. "Not that I am complaining. I've never seen the troll for myself."

"I wanted to introduce you to a friend," Alice replied with a smile.

Robin looked around and raised a playful brow at her. One that made Alice giggle. She was sure she would surprise Robin in a good way with her friend.

Turning on her heels, she spread her arms wide and exclaimed, "Meet my friend, the troll!"

She heard Robin chuckle brightly and turned around. Her grin spread when she looked at the smirking brunette who now tilted her head.

"Do you mind if I ask how a ten feet tall stature became your friend?"

"It's eighteen feet, actually," Alice corrected out of habit, "but that isn't important. What is, is that he saved me. He found me when I was lost."

Robin's grin faltered and her eyes darkened with worry. Eyebrows raised into two perfect curves. This time in silent question.

Alice took it as a sign to tell Robin the story of how she met her friend, the troll. She leaned her back against one of the cold fingers of his left hand and said, "In the first month living in Seattle I was constantly overwhelmed. The city was much bigger than anything I have ever known. Oxford was the only big city I have seen and it is nothing compared to Seattle," she puffed out a little chuckle. The comparison seemed sheer ridiculous. Even to her.

"I was always tired. Studying, painting and working," she continued and stomped one of her heels to the ground, digging a small hollow into the soil. "One day I was so tired I fell asleep on the bus. When I woke up, I panicked and hopped off the bus without knowing where I was. Of course my mobile was dead," Alice slashed a little smile which Robin responded to in sympathy. Before both their smiles fell off their faces. "I walked down the street, hoping I would find something telling me where I was. I wished for somebody to help me. That's when the troll found me and I finally knew where I was," Alice explained and turned around to lay a hand on the cold and rough concrete of the troll's knuckles.

Robin walked up to her and leaned a shoulder against the troll's hand next to her. "Sounds more like you found him."

"Perhaps, we found each other," Alice mumbled while fumbling around with the hem of her shirt.

"Anyway, it's a good thing he found you," the brunette stated with a smirk. She was so close Alice could trace the spots of amber in her eyes. They inflamed when those green orbs skipped down to Alice's lips.

Rendered speechless Alice hummed in question.

"Who knows if we would have met, if things came differently?" Robin asked in a low voice with a vibrating timbre, sending tickles into every corner of Alice's body.

Alice swallowed. Her eyes fleeted over the other woman's face. She could not imagine not meeting Robin. At one point in time, at one place on earth they were supposed to meet – because how could it not be? 

"I believe we would," she replied sincerely.

Green eyes met her own blue and Alice noticed a glint she had not seen before. A tender but nonetheless vigorous light, tilting the olive green into a colour reminding Alice of a glade in spring and sweet clover.

"So what now?" Robin asked and nodded towards the basket. "Feeding the troll?"

"I thought about picnicking at Kite Hill. What do you say?"

"I say, I'll grab the pretty huge basket and you lead the way."

Alice was sure Robin knew how to get to the Kite Hill from here and smiled at the gesture.

While they made the short walk towards the Kite Hill next to the Gas Works Park, Alice felt a tingle on the back of her hand close to where Robin's hung in the air. It tickled up her arm. Towards her heart and burst into flutters as their fingers grazed each others.

Binged up Alice gave a snigger. She looked up to see Robin’s cheeks tinted with a feint blush and eyes sparkling in a lighter shade of olive as she faltered in her tale about her day working at her aunt’s bistro.

The Kite Hill was hidden behind a dark green and high line of trees. Upon crossing they saw an area of grass patches and a hill. The coast of Lake Union was in the background, a huge bay in the middle of Seattle. From afar Alice could see the rows of ships lining up like gray and white dots in the dark blue. She smiled thinking about her papa at home.

After climbing to a higher part of the hill, Robin and her spread out the blanket which Alice had not forgotten to bring along.

“What do we have?”

“Marmalade sandwiches!” Alice exclaimed grinning from one ear to another as she reopened the basket and revealed dozens of what was undoubtedly, the best version of sandwiches in the whole world.

Robin laughed wholeheartedly, her voice brightened, and dropped onto her buttocks on the blanket next to her. She leaned forward to glimpse into the basket. “Did you rob a marmalade store?”

“Oh, no. I always keep a stock on marmalade in my room,” Alice replied.

“For rainy days?”

“And sunny ones.”

They shared a giggle before grabbing each a wrapped up marmalade sandwich.

Munching the sweet treat, Alice looked at the sky filled with kites.

Usual rectangular shaped ones drifted lazily in front of the pastel blue. One kite looking like a caterpillar passed them by, crawling through the air above the Gas Works Park, an old coal gasification plant which was shut down and made into a park. It looked like it belonged to a Steam Punk movie. Old, rusty pipes winding themselves around huge rusty tanks like brown snakes. It was one of the curious things in Seattle.

Alice hoped, if Robin was up to it, they could seek out a little adventure exploring the park later.

She was sure, together with Robin everything would be an adventure!

Next to her the brunette released a content sigh, reflecting on her own emotions.

The silence between them was comfortable. Magical. They needed no words to chase their dreams or silence their fears.

Life was good.

Last week she sold her picture,  _Captain's Call_.

She had paid it a visit while Robin had been in New York, wanting to say goodbye to the picture which had been a part of her old life before the anonymous buyer would take it home and make it a part of their life after the exhibition closed.

And now she was together with Robin. The woman who quickly became a new part of her life in a most charming way.

Life was perfect.

Her eyes followed the movements of the caterpillar again. She smiled as it closed in to a pipe shaped kite seesawing nearby.

Struck by inspiration Alice picked up her phone and shot photos of them making advances.

A bubbly laughter rose from her as she looked at the last picture of the caterpillar smoking on the pipe above the Gas Works Park.

“That looks amazing,” Robin purred leaning over Alice’s shoulder, breath tingling against her ears and neck, effectively scattering goosebumps on Alice’s skin.

“Not as impressive as the photo of you on the ferry with the Statue of Liberty in the background,” Alice replied, recalling the photo of the beautiful woman and a man who Robin said was her cousin Henry on the ferry. The wind had lifted brunette tresses into the air and waved them behind her head. A moment caught in time, which Robin had thankfully shared with her.

“Too bad we don't have a kite,” Robin startled Alice out of her daydream. “We should come here again in fall, when the winds are at their strongest, see if they can lift us of the ground.”

Alice’s face fell.

Here she was, having believed she had thought of everything while ignoring the most obvious detail. Alice frowned and admitted, “I should have thought about bringing a kite.”

“Don't worry. This is perfect,” the other woman uttered and raised a shoulder. “To be honest I don't like flying these things too much. What I like the most about it is running down the hill at full speed.”

Smiling Alice pictured Robin’s hair flying in the wind and her laughing. Inspiration was at work again.

“We don't need a kite for that,” Alice jumped onto her feet and offered a hand to Robin.

A grin spread on pinkish lips. “Alice Jones, are you asking me to run downhill with you?”

“Uhu,” Alice chimed brightly and giddily buried her teeth into her lips. Running or walking, uphill or downhill, she liked the idea of Robin by her side.

“Let's do it,” Robin said and let herself be pulled up by Alice. Taking a position next to Alice she did not let go of her hand but began to count, “One.”

“Two,” Alice joined in with her grin widening possibly impossible degree.

“Three,” they said in union and dashed forward.

Gravity tore at their lifted feet and pushed them forward.

With long strides they ran. Rushing downhill they had to keep their balance, while their laughter left their lungs dry.

Alice almost tripped over her own feet on an even stripe of pavement and Robin raised their clasped hands to pull her closer. Chuckling Alice bumped into her and caused them both to sway.

It was perfect.

They raced down. Further and further. Until they reached the foot of the hill and slowed down close to the coast. Both of them were winded. Breathless laughter bent their bodies forwards and backwards.

Arms leaned on her knees Alice guffawed and did not stop, even as she felt the need of air start to burn her stomach began to hurt. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

“Alice?” Robin gasped out.

Alice raised her eyes and was immediately enchanted by the olive green eyes glimmering softly. “Yes,” she said with a rough voice and swapped away the tears of laughter.

A smile bordering between insecurity and conviction stretched on Robin's lips.“Can I kiss you?”

Alice jumped at the question.

She was not ready yet.

No. Robin was not prepared yet!

“I am sorry but,” she started and when Robin's smile fell she quickly tried to explain herself, “It's not because I don't want to. But there are things you should know first. You should know that I have no experience. I've never seen or been with somebody before and I don't know anything about relationships. I am not sure, if I am going to be a good girlfriend for you and you deserve the best girlfriend. Also I am a mess. But you should know that already. Unless you did not notice before. So if you didn't, you ought to know I am all kinds of messy in my head and in my life. People always call me – ”

“Alice,” Robin intervened.

Alice raised her gaze again. She had not been aware she had dropped it to the ground.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Robin asked and took a step forwards.

Alice puffed out a breath as all of her arguments deflated by the question and Robin's proximity.

Hope and anticipation showered over her, vibrating through her chest and rushing tickles over her body.

She wanted to kiss Robin.

Very much.

“More than you could possibly know,” she breathed out. A new load of tears gather in her eyes.

Robin's eyes traced her face, skipped up and down as she took another step closer.

Alice's was breath caught in her chest.

Her heart jumped as Robin slowly leaned closer, eyes dropping shut.

Alice did the same.

In the moment of anticipation, the second of waiting for the touch Alice nerves drizzled beneath her skin. Like crackling embers.

She felt Robin's breath on her cheek. Smelled the sweet scent of marmalade twinged with a flowery perfume. Heard the drumming of her own heart.

Dum.

Dum. Dum.

She was growing warm all over but shivered.

When Robin's lips finally met hers, her chest deflated in relief and roared back to life in pleasure.

The touch was gentle. Soft. But oh so powerful.

Robin grazed her lips with a tiny hum. 

Alice's senses tingled and her heart sped up. The thunder of its beats drowned out any other noise as it pumped fiercely inside her chest and resounded in her ears.

Licks of fire raced up and down her body and whizzed over her skin and tickled along her spine.

She was lost and safe. 

Cold and hot. 

Her mind swam and cleared up. 

She was caught but never felt so free.

She trembled when Robin's hand rose to her neck and caressed the line of her baby hair and changed the angle slightly to deepen the kiss capturing Alice's lips between hers.

Overwhelmed with feelings Alice gasped and grabbed the shoulders of the brunette to keep herself steady on her feet. 

Robin exhaled sharply against her cheek and planted her lips onto Alice's again. More firmly this time.

There was a pull in Alice's stomach, not unpleasantly but unfamiliar. 

Courageously Alice leaned in wanting to learn more about the sensations stirred by the motion. Moving her lips against Robin's she felt the tingling intensify. 

Their lips were two charged wires striking a spark. Alice was rewarded with the feeling of Robin's fingers quivering against her neck.

When they broke the kiss, Alice looked into bright eyes, green flames of fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Is it hot here or is it just me? Phew, you have no idea how often I worked on the kissing scene. It was my pleasure. Hehe ;)  
> 2) Duchess - A character in Alice in Wonderland  
> 3) Liddel sisters - Lewis Carol was inspired by the three Liddel sisters, especially Alice Liddel.  
> 4) 7 1/2 years old - That's Alice's age in Alice in Wonderland  
> 5) "I love Judd" - is really carves into one of the pillars. Don't know if it is still there. But it was there 2017  
> 6) Fremont troll – Built 1990, 5.5 m (18 ft) tall and sculptured by Steve Badanes, Will Martin, Donna Walter, and Ross Whitehead. It is really located beneath the Aurora Bridge of Seattle. The walk from the Fremont Troll to Kite Hill at Gas Works Park takes 17 minutes per foot so I thought it was nice to have a cute bonding moment and a sweet date. Thanks to @AgentAyu for giving me an idea how to use the Fremont troll in this story.  
> 7) Comparison Oxford, Uk to Seattle – Oxford 18 sq mi, 151,906 inhabitants / Seattle 142 sp mi 724,745 inhabitants  
> 8) Kite Hill - Gasworks Kite Hill . There are two in Seattle but this one has a cool park.  
> 9) Gas Works Park - a public park on the site of the former Seattle Gas Light Company gasification plant, located on the north shore of Lake Union. The plant operated from 1906 to 1956.  
> 10) The first part of this chapter was inspired by Kealla Seattle - "This Is Me". Lots of love to anyone whose weakness was turned against them or who feel lonely and trapped in their small world. Remember you're all amazing and NOT ALONE. There will always be someone who will see how beautiful you are!!!  
> 11) There is a German idiom about being able to steal horses with somebody. There is no similar idiom in English to translate this idea. Being game for anything or being a good sport hits close but it has not the same implications. Anyway... That’s what I think Alice and Robin are. Not only are they supportive but can have lots of unconventional fun together.
> 
> Okay now... Was it too fluffy? I've been too sappy for a while now to notice. XD


	8. Castle of Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice is at work when Robin calls her to propose something.

 

The scent of leather cloaked the room; more potent than the smokey smell of the Earl Grey she and her boss both liked to brew whenever they worked at the same time. They would sit down for a start-into-the-day tea.

Fortunately her boss, the hatter of Hatterdashery, shared her love for black tea.

Humming Alice sorted the new delivery of leather, cotton and fleece slices into the shelves.

She loved how the fabrics caressed her palms. Soft brown ones, frizzy white ones, smooth black ones. A diversity of pieces which will become one day part of a hat.

Alice treated each of them like she would one of her canvas: Gently as if they were friends. Every piece which merged together with another piece to become art.

The small puzzles of life. 

Every piece was important to Alice.

It was like a chance union. Two strangers, who belonged together, meeting and becoming something new together. And only the process of meeting, the creation coming into being, decided what in the end would be the finished artwork. At times it was the merging of two lovers and at others the unforeseen reunion of family.

Alice understood Jefferson's passion about producing something with ones hands, to unite pieces like they were meant to be.

The thrill of creation, bringing piece by piece together, was exciting!

That's why she was happy to help him out wherever she could while he worked on crafting new hats for his collection or for customer requirements, even if it meant at times to spend time after her shift ended.

Craftsmanship and artwork emerged from diligence and inspiration.

Both needed a lot of attention, Alice knew.

Burying her teeth into her lower lip, Alice put the last slice onto its supposed pile and threw a glance at the clock.

One of its hands chased the other and she had to think of the story about the hare and the turtle. The turtle always had the upper hand, hadn't it?

It was 5 pm. Time to close up the shop in the front room and end her shift.

She gazed at her governor who currently sat behind his table, facing a blank, plain white wall – no distractions he had explained to her – and decorated a top hat. His teal eyes were fixed on the needle he weaved and his chocolate coloured hair stuck up unruly. An artist infatuated with his work.

With silent steps she walked to the front room – well, as silently as she could on the heels of her army boots – and turned the sign at the door to "Closed" before taking care of the register.

Being busy with tiding up the counter, she closed the books of orders when a card threatened to slip out between the pages. Jefferson had this curious habit of using playing cards as bookmarks. She opened the pages and pushed the card back in between before placing the book onto the shelf inside the counter. Apparently, RQ ordered a new enormous delivery this month, which would mean lots of extra hours for Alice.

As she was wiping the counter clean, needing two attempts to clean the glass on top, her mobile started blaring in the back room.

Frome where she heard a sharp gasp.

She hurried inside. Grabbing her bag she retrieved the phone from it. It now cried at her, "Raise it up! Raise it up!"

She threw an apologetic gaze at the unnerved looking Jefferson. He despised being interrupted while stitching.

When he gave her a curt nod despite his deeply carved scowl, she looked at the screen and saw her current, most favourite smile in the world.

"Hello," she chimed into the mobile when she picked up, while walking to the front room.

"Alice, hi," Robin breathed. "Are you done working?"

"Not yet," Alice replied after pulling the door shut behind her.

"Okay," Robin said more tersely than ever before.

When she did not say anything else, Alice frowned. "Robin? Was there something you wanted to say?"

A few seconds of silence passed.

Alice wondered if Robin was distracted by something else but then the later blurted out, "My mom asked if you'd like to come to dinner tonight."

A broad grin stretched Alice's lips at the prospect of meeting Robin's mum."That's great!" she cheered. But when Robin grew silent again, the grin faltered. "Isn't it?"

"It's just... I never brought anyone else home before and my family can be a little... intense," Robin explained releasing a seething puff of air.

"Intense? That sounds even more fun," Alice chirped with a new grin blooming on her face and played with the rainbow coloured bracelet she wore on her wrist which Robin gave to her on their sixth date.

"Are you sure?" Robin's voice vibrated with irritation.

"Of course! I'd like to meet all the people belonging to your family!" During the last few weeks she'd already met Henry, Robin's cousin. Like Robin he was witty and intelligent, perhaps less sarcastic, if you wanted to put a name on it. Also he was a writer! Alice LOVED good stories.

"Thanks," Robin huffed and Alice could imagine the tiny smile curling the line of her lips. "And I still have to ask my mom for some financial support on the PI idea, so better not mention how the rate of drug crimes picked up these last few months."

"I couldn't have done it before because I did not know about it. But I'll try to keep these news to myself now," Alice countered cheekily.

Robin giggled. "Okay, painter girl. I'll pick you up in an hour at CC?"

Alice chuckled.

One of the things she had learned about Robin besides that she loved to sleep in a wide Seahawks T-shirt was her habit to label things, preferably with shortened phrases. CC, in this case, stood for Cornish Commons. Nuneham Courtenay received the abbreviation NC.

"Yes," she breathed out with the last chuckle.

"Great! See you then."

"Bye," Alice replied. She could not stop smiling, even as she returned into the back room to put the phone back into her bag.

Jefferson Chapelier still sat where she had last seen him, at his table, examining his work. The cuffs of his dress shirt budged under the strain as he raised the hat above the table lamp. He was always dressed very neatly, even if he worked all day in his back room to stitch hats, wearing suit and dress shoes. Today a grey vest covered his lavender shirt and he had pushed a black shawl into it.

Nonetheless he was not superficial. He had not sent Alice away, when she had appeared to the job interview with her ripped tights and a too large shirt. On the contrary. He had praised her for dressing true to herself even if it was a bit too 'punk-ish' for his own taste.

Alice walked over to her bag which still rested on a chair close the small kitchen.

"Was that your... girlfriend?" Jefferson asked in a low voice and eyed her bracelet.

"Yep," Alice confirmed with a grin. They had not actually said it yet. But lots and lots of kissing and spontaneous meetings were enough proof the unspoken truth to Alice. She wondered though how it was that Robin loved to label things but was reluctant about putting a label on them.

Dropping the phone into her bag, Alice turned around to look at Jefferson who seemed to be more engaged in his head than anything else again.

After a while he sneered, "Hn...". His was face was contorted, corners of his mouth turned down like the edges of a cliff.

She couldn't tell if it was because of her relationship with Robin or the stitches on the hat, he observed right now.

Insecurely she fumbled with the zip of her bag. Should she address this? She was not sure. She knew, of course, not everyone was comfortable with same sex relationships but she did not want to risk her job because of this. She needed this job. The money she had made by selling her painting was a nice cushion but not enough to support her living on a long term.

Nibbling her lips Alice watched her boss stare at the top hat. His scowl had lifted.

Alice couldn't let this rest. She needed to know if she was being accepted. She needed to know if her boss would sent her to the streets at the next opportunity. "Are you okay with this, Mr. Jefferson?"

"Of course, I am," he shot back and brushed his hand over the hat's brim. "Love is a general abomination. Something everyone seeks and glorifies, yet can never be certain of or content with. Fanciful ideals lead to mundane worries."

Alice frowned because of this sober perception of love. "How can a worry be mundane if it feels like it is your very own?"

"Indeed, that's quite particular, isn't it? If people were less self-involved they might see, that everyone shares the same worries. It is not something to feel special about."

"This does not make them less strong, I think. We can only see what belongs to our personal world. That's nothing bad. It just means life exists in millions of different worlds," Alice contemplated.

"Everything is what it isn't and everything isn't as it is," he muttered dryly and finally looked up from his work. "One day you will learn, that you never can be certain of what you have. Let me give you a piece of advice: Hold onto what you have and what you feel. Certainly, it won't be forever this way."

Her eyes fleeted over his face. She'd never seen him as dark minded as this before. She wondered if something in life happened that gave him this very skeptical opinion, shunned the glint from his eyes even as he looked at his artwork right now.

Alice remained silent. She did not know what to say. Jefferson seemed to have his very own perception of love and one thing she had learned was that there was nothing more difficult than to twist a fixed mind.

"You can leave now, if you finished closing up," Jefferson broke the silence again.

"Thank you," Alice replied and picked up her bag.

She turned to look at Jefferson again who held the hat over his head. An uneasy feeling was sewed into the space between her throat and heart.

"Good evening, Jefferson," she said and left the room filled with the scent of black tea.

Half an hour and a bus ride later Alice stood in front of a cupboard with a split mirror glued to it and threw a critical eye at her own reflexion.

Swinging the blue shirt dress from side to side so it brushed her in tights clad thighs, she frowned at the image.

She wasn’t sure what to wear and she fussed a lot more over her outfit now than she had when she had applied for a job. She wished she knew what was common to wear for meeting the parents or rather in this case, the single parent.

Her flatmate Mary had told her to wear something casual so she wouldn’t appear trying too hard. But right now Alice wondered if this was too casual. Was it too much herself? Would it show all her true colours which were appalling to some people?

Burying her teeth deep into her lower lip, Alice eyed her outfit again. She had exchanged her well worn army boots for almost new plimsolls which she had figured had a much more friendly appeal.

Leaning closer to the mirror she examined her make up. The lines of her kohl were still intact. Her mascara did not clump together yet.

Tilting her head, Alice had to snigger at her mirror image. The crack of the mirror was beneath her head, making it appear as if it was bigger than her body.

Apparently, Alice got herself beheaded every time she looked too close into the looking glass.

A strong knock on the door startled her out of her silly daydream. Robin was here!

Jumping back Alice hurried to the door and ripped it open, revealing the brunette in the soft leather jacket, which actually was as soft as it looked Alice had learned. Her green eyes were smouldering with warmth. “Hi, painter girl.”

“Robin,” Alice chirped as she stepped aside to let the other woman into the room. She was surprised when instead of stepping in, Robin pulled her close and pressed her lips onto hers. Alice squealed but sank into the kiss quickly. She was getting more and more used to kissing Robin. Still these kisses would set her body aflame.

When they broke apart, they both sighed contently in the narrow space between them. Their foreheads leaned against one another.

“Are you ready to leave?” Robin asked and stepped away.

“Not yet. There is something I wanted to show you. A gift,” Alice said and took Robin by the hand to lead her inside the room.

It was not as tidy as the first time she’d shown her – there was still a empty tea cup from this morning on her bedside table; the clothes she had worn earlier formed a pile on the floor where she had discarded them earlier. She hoped Robin would not mind.

“You did not need to buy a present for the host. My mom will be happy to meet you without it,” Robin told her.

“Actually, it’s not for her,” Alice admitted tongue in cheek. “Although I feel bad now, since I have not considered this.”

“It’s fine,” Robin repeated with a chuckle. “So for who is it for?”

“You, of course,” Alice said and walked over to the end of her bed, where in the tiny space between the cupboard and the resting place, she had been able to squeeze in the stand for her canvas. Right now it faced the wall because Alice believed as much as Jefferson in unfortunate distractions. Only that it was her art which was distracting her from time to time, calling for her attention at the most inconvenient moments.

She picked up the canvas from the stand, turned it around and put it back.

This painting was so much different to what she had done before. Motifs of longing had been replaced by motifs filled with joy.

Whipping on heels she was excited to see Robin’s reaction.

Art is in the eye of the beholder.

Alice never had found words more true than in this moment.

Robin’s lips had dropped open and her eyes were crinkling with misty orbs of wonder as they ran over the painting. Alice could see how they darkened as they stopped on the lower deep blue dots forming rows of seats and how they lightened up as they rushed over the brushes of intensively green shades in the middle space and the glorious light blue tones of the sky in the higher section. Robin’s eyes were filled with mirthfully amber sparks as they traced the white lines marking the pitch.

“Alice,” Robin whispered. “This is awesome!”

Alice had painted CenturyLink Field from her memory of the game they had went to, had shaped the seats and lines with a play of perspective. She had painted it, not because she liked American Football, or rather football as Robin preferred her to call it but because it had been one of those days that has started with happy thoughts and ended with happy thoughts. She had wanted to keep this memory as vivid as she could.

“Thought you hated football,” Robin mumbled as she leaned closer to the painting, staring at the point where “SEAHAWKS” was written in huge letters on the field beneath the lemon yellow goal, and Alice did not find it in her heart to tell her that she did not like it much. She just hummed and thought about how she had troubles hearing the next day.

“Wait a sec!” Robin exclaimed suddenly. “Is that a rabbit on the field?!”

A grin broke on Alice’s face and she had to giggle at the sight of Robin’s eyes widened in shock.

“Yep,” she chirped. “I thought the scene could use some movement.”

“I assumed you usually painted some kind of romanticized realism,” Robin noted, finally ripping her eyes away from the painting.

“No reality is as fixed as it is supposed to be believed. Our fantasies are what make the world around us appear real.”

“So imaginative bunnies make a realistic painting even more realistic?” Robin asked with her eyebrows lifting into two half circles.

“In a way, yes,” Alice nodded.

“Only you could come up with this kind of wisdom,” Robin uttered with a softened voice, tones brightened by tenderness. Suddenly her jaw dropped and she grabbed Alice’s arm. “That’s what you should do!”

“Come again?” Alice asked confused. Had she missed something?

“Your style. This,” Robin emphasized with a hand waving towards the painting, “should be your style. This is so much like you! An original Alice Jones. Even more so than the ship that bore a sense of loneliness.”

Alice gulped and watched Robin wave her hands a bit more across the painting.

“Here you have straight lines going queer. A realistic setting exaggerated with vibrant colours and the intrusion of your imagination in form of a bunny. It’s like the rabbit hole into a world of possibilities. Your rabbit hole.”

Taken aback Alice looked at Robin.

Closely.

Nobody had taken a glance as observant as this onto her paintings ever before and had found so much of her in them. Unlike the mirror this was not a cracked image and Robin had seen all of it. Seen Alice for who she really was.

Alice was bare to Robin’s sight and yet this did not make her feel scared or vulnerable. Her eyes filled with tears because she was so extremely thankful for having found her Robin.

The later one turned around now and bending one of her delicate eyebrows to an unsure crook. “Alice, are you alright? Did I say something to upset you?”

“No, you did not,” Alice said and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss onto Robin’s lips, “Thank you for seeing me. For seeing me as I truly am.”

Robin released a sound fit for a sigh and a moan, before leaning in again, stealing a few more soft pecks. “You’re welcome,” she answered with a strained voice. “So if this is for me, basically, I get to take you home?”

“Yes, if that’s what you want.”

“I’d like that very much,” Robin murmured. Green eyes softening to a mystical hue.

Alice felt her heart tumbling over an edge. It fell inside her chest. An eternal fall stripped from the limits of gravity. There was no crash. Only the fall.

Unable to formulate words she leaned in and captured Robin’s lips in a searing kiss, desperately trying to articulate something that knew no words.

Robin answered again and moved her lips over hers as they opened up to each other.

Alice swayed at the first touch of tongue and was steadied by two arms engulfing her in a strong embrace. She was lost in the following haze of burning twitches and gentle waves inside her. Unconsciously Alice pushed her body fully against Robin’s.

The later broke them apart with a gasp. Her cheeks reddened and pupils dilated. Croakily she said, “I hate to be the mood killer but we should leave now.”

Alice nodded. She did not want to be late the first time she would meet Robin’s mother either. She licked her lips and in an attempt to compensate her inner commotion with energy she quickly shouldered her bag and grabbed the painting stuffing it into her armpit.

“Okay. I am ready,” she said. The hoarseness of her own voice surprised her.

Robin huffed and led them outside Alice’s room and towards the lift.

Putting the painting into the back of Henry’s dark blue Toyota, Alice and Robin drove north towards the suburbs.

The farther they drove the greener the scenery got.

It was not Nuneham Courtenay but there was a touch of nature at every corner. No wonder Seattle was called the Emerald City even if it had nothing to do with the Wizard of Oz. But as they drove down the road, Alice could imagine a yellow glow on the street. A group of children passing by reminded her of munchkins.

They parked at a road in the suburbs.

Cute houses were planted across the street. It was a homey place with whitewashed fences and broad patios in the middle of a huge city. Seattle was something else.

“Remember, don’t mention –”

“The drug dealing, I know,” Alice interrupted Robin with a wink as they exited the car.

“Sorry, the license is almost through. I want to show my mom that I am serious about becoming a PI and not have her scared about it before I lay all my cards on the table,” Robin whispered as they walked over to the white front door of a mint green panelled one storey house.

Instinctively Alice grabbed her hand. “Surely everything will be fine.”

Robin smiled softly and rang the bell.

Alice tried to stop herself from fidgeting and waited patiently in front of the door next to Robin until, finally somebody opened the door.

“Hello, dear,” a bronze skinned and dark haired woman drawled in a low and sultry voice. White teeth shone brilliantly as she smiled at Alice, “my name is Regina Mills. I am Robin’s aunt.”

“Delighted to meet you. I am Alice! Alice Jones,” she replied and shook the hand offered to her.

“Hey, Aunt Regina. How are you?” Robin said and sank into an embrace of her slightly smaller aunt who looked like she had nothing in common with her niece. Alice wondered how Robin’s mother might look.

“I am glad you could make it.”

“Have our guests flown in already?” A woman called from another room. The knock of heels on a wooden floor grew louder. A red haired woman appeared from behind a corner. Ice blue eyes caught Alice’s almost immediately, beneath which a wide smile stretched on thin lips.

She looked so different to Robin’s aunt, Regina Mills, and spoke in a familiar accent. An accent that did not feel like an accent to Alice at all. Alice wondered what the story behind this was, why these sisters appeared to be so different in their origin.

“Hello, dearie, it’s nice to make your acquaintance,” she said and held a hand out for Alice to shake. “My name is Zelena Mills. I am the mother of your girlfriend who finally chose to introduce us.”

“Mom,” Robin moaned behind them.

“Hello, Miss Mills. Pleased to meet you. I am Alice Jones,” Alice said more happy about the term “girlfriend” than paying attention to the snappy remark.

There was an awkward moment afterwards, when Miss Mill’s eyes skipped over to Robin and they both shared a forced smile. “Come,” the first said, after Robin breathed out a compelled greeting, looking away with much more tightened lips. “Dinner is ready. I hope you like Cottage Pie.”

A grin spread on Alice’s lips.

She loved Cottage Pie!

Robin’s mother led them through the sitting room into the bright dining room. White lacquered wooden stairs and a matching table dominated the room in the middle. The wallpaper was green and beige striped. A with cabinet in farmhouse style completed the scenery.

It looked wonderfully welcoming.

Green had become Alice’s favourite colour, even though she had never treated colours with partiality.

They sat down in front of the table laid with pastel green plates and a steaming casserole in the middle. The nostalgic smell of Cottage pie made Alice feel at home. Except for her papa she did not miss much about the UK but this smell reminded her of lazy Sundays in front of the fireplace when her papa would narrate an exaggerated pirate story and she would paint scenes of freedom and loneliness.

Robin’s mother sat at the head of the table and began cutting the dish into slices.

Everyone else was silent. Robin’s aunt poured wine into glasses while Robin sat next to her stiffly. When Robin told her that it was not love, peace and harmony between them she seemed to have exaggerated a tiny bit.

The squeak of spatula against the enamelled pottery made Alice jump.

Not knowing where to look her gaze passed the cabinet. The struts between the glasses divided the reflection of the family sitting at the table into numerous pieces.

Wanting to break the silence she followed the rules of courtesy her papa had taught her and truthfully commented, “You have a lovely home, Miss Mills and Miss Mills.” Her smile broadened, when she added, “It’s so beautifully green.”

Robin’s aunt, Regina Mills, scoffed at that from the opposite side of the table and raised the glass of red wine to her lips. “Debatably,” she muttered in low tones.

Irritated Alice knitted her eyebrows. Was this a wrong thing to say?

Robin’s mum leaned over towards her daughter, who looked like she did not want to be here, and murmured, clear enough for everyone else to hear, “I like her.”

Robin rolled her eyes her mother but then looked at Alice with her lips curling so sweetly and her green eyes glinting.

Alice thought, she might have said the right thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) The Tortoise and the Hare – is an old fable.
> 
> 2) "Raise it up! Raise itup!" – Lyrics of "Rabbit Heart" by Florence + The Machine (2009).
> 
> 3) "Everything is what it isn't and everything isn't as it is." – Reference to the hatter in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Changed the quote. ;)
> 
> 4) “Art is in the eye of the beholder, and everyone will have their own interpretation." - quote by E.A. Bucchianeri 
> 
> 5) There are a lot of references to Alice in Wonderland, e.g. looking glass, endless fall and the image of the beheading. If nothing of this rings a bell for you, I recommend reading the orginal works, _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_. You can find a version on Wattpad. It’s in my reading list “Classics”. ;)
> 
> 6) Munchkins – Figures of The Wizard of Oz. Their description comes close to dwarfs, men who are as big as children but look like adults in the face.


	9. Sun Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin's new life is slowly taking shape. Especially a cheery blonde has a lot of influence.

 

The table squeaked as it scratched over the floor. The radio on the counter next to the coffee machine blurted out a song. "I never knew anybody til' I knew you. I never knew anybody til' I knew you. And I know when it rains, oh, it pours. And I know I was born to be yours."

Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Robin let go of the table's edges and moved back to take a look at the result of her work.

She had rented this small shabby shed close to Henry's apartment and had spent all weekend to fill the place to make it more decent: grouting cracks, painting the walls, polishing the floor and filling it with second hand furniture which more or less matched. At least the chairs were one set.

The place gained shape and color.

Finally Robin felt like she was filling all the empty spaces in her life.

She had a work place for her business and the PI license. Even if she could not expect to quit her job at her Aunt's bistro any time soon, she was glad she took this step. It was scary to establish a business in the private sector. However, it was damn rewarding to built something up on your own.

Also she had the cutest girlfriend in the world. Even if there was a slight chance that she might be a bit biased considering this matter.

Robin could not help it, though. Alice had easily entered her mind and captured her heart. All the more Robin was happy that in the last few weeks Alice had warmed up to her, sharing her past, even the darker parts with Robin.

Even her mom had loved her and her mom was not an easy person to persuade. The dinner had gone surprisingly well. Her mom and Alice had exchanged stories about their childhood in the UK and found they had a lot in common as both had grown up in a tiny village and had left the UK for the US.

Robin could not believe that one time she had been one of those bullies, making fun of people like Alice. She was definitely going to do better. She would do everything she could to make Alice's life a happy life and she would do anything to help people in need.

Her phone buzzed in the back pocket of her denim.

Alice wrote,  _I'm coming over. Will be there in ten minutes._

Robin jumped and immediately looked down. She was sweaty, the army green tank top was clinging to her stomach and beneath her armpits, the denim was rubbed white where she had slid with her knee caps on the floor. Her hair was held back in a messy bun. Strains of hair clung to her temples and her neck.

 _I'm all sweaty_ , she wrote back in panic. So far she had tried to look at least passable for Alice. Or more like clean and not like she'd run a marathon.

There was no reaction, though.

Robin looked around hoping to get an answer from the white bleached wall. The freshly dried paint just gleamed back at her.

Ten minutes.

What could she do in ten minutes?

Run to the apartment and change?

Nope.

Impossible.

And only partly effective because more than a new set of clothes, she needed a shower.

Robin sighed.

As long as striping naked was not an option – and hell it was not – she had to face Alice like this.

Her phone vibrated in her hand.

 _I don't mind_ , Alice's message was immediately followed by a winking emoticon. _Are you finished already?_

Feeling a bit relieved, Robin sighed.

There was always the first time to look less attractive in front of your girlfriend, wasn't there?

 _Yep_ , she wrote back and laid the phone down to sort out her hair at least, pulling out the hairband and throwing her head forward. It was growing too long.

The phone threatened to fall of the edge of the table as it vibrated again and Robin was quick to grab it, after throwing back her head.

 _I wanted to help._  Alice had written with a teary eyed emoticon.

Robin scoffed. Her face split into a broad smile.

Her girlfriend was adorable! There was no other word for it.

 _No need. I fixed it up rather quickly. Just happy to see you_ , Robin sent and went over to the coffee maker to set up a fresh brew.

The phone buzzed again and on the screen Robin read _,_   _Almost there_ , while she measured the coffee and spilled only a little.

And just a few moments later, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in. It's open," Robin called over her shoulder pouring water from the can into the machine.

She heard the door open and Alice's army boots stepping on the freshly polished floor.

"There she is," Alice chirped behind her, "Robin Hood."

Robin shut the lid of the machine and turned around with a heavy groan. "Seriously, Alice?"

Alice walked in with her toothy, too cute to fathom, grin. Her eyes glinted with playfulness, though, as she placed a large, flat package down to lean against the table, set in the middle of the room. "Would you rather be called Margot then?"

Internally Robin groaned again. She might never see the end of this joke and her girlfriends cute vest beneath her blue shirt could not distract Robin from the sinking feeling of misery. "Alice! Seriously?"

Alice grin widened, making Robin wonder if she was not like Alice in Wonderland but more like the Chesire cat. "Nobin?"

"Okay, that's it!"

Alice squealed and laughed as Robin jumped towards her. But the blonde beauty dashed away fast.

Chuckling Robin followed her around the table, almost tripping over the package Alice had placed on the ground. The both giggled at the second round. In the middle of the third Robin came to a hard stop and caught the running Alice in her arms.

"Caught you," she murmured and pressed Alice into the table to make sure she won't escape again.

"You did," Alice laughed. Her grin transformed into a sweet smile and she mumbled, "But I was not truly running away."

The air left Robin's lungs as she looked down at the slightly shorter woman. Dumbfounded Robin leaned in and bestowed a kiss on Alice's lips.

It was a sweet and simple peck. One Alice returned and before Robin could help herself she pressed her torso into Alice's and burying a hand into her hair and deepened the kiss.

Claws of heat tore at her lower stomach at Alice's soft moan. The tingling pull was not unpleasant but not very uncomfortable either.

Robin's body craved more contact and her heart ached as they shared a heated but tormenting slow kiss.

Two months.

Two months they had been together.

Or well at least it had been two months since their first kiss as they had not set a date. If it hadn't been for Robin's mom calling Alice her girlfriend and Alice being courageous and honest taking over the label, Robin might still be stuck on wondering to be or not to be.

She'd never been as careful as this with anyone before. She'd definitely would not have withstood two months of this before.

By now Robin was yearning much and yearning hard. The need to get closer squeezed her heart and rendered her speechless as she broke the kiss.

She wanted Alice.

However, the now shivering blonde in her arms was not as experienced as Robin. Not even close. Timing was always crucial but right now it was the only thing that could Robin make break away.

They had all the time in the world.

And Robin wanted to use it wisely.

She did not want to screw this up and so she took a deep breath and stepped away. She pushed a strand of blonde behind her girlfriend's ear, revealing more of the hooded gaze. Darkened blue like the sea before after the sun set.

Robin gulped and searched for a distraction. She did not have to look far because, as she took a step back, she kicked against the package which had slipped to the floor during the chase.

Bending down, Robin picked it up.

It was lighter than she'd assumed.

Maybe it was another one of Alice's paintings? How she'd ever had the time to study, work and paint more than her projects was a mystery to Robin. Most days she barely could concentrate on anything else when thoughts of Alice

"What's that?" Robin asked, raising both eyebrows in curiosity and ignored how her voice broke at the end.

Alice's distant gaze cleared up and she sucked in an audible breath. Pushing herself up to sit onto the table, she tilted her head to the side and smiled. "It's your entrance sign. You cannot have a shed door as office entrance."

Blinking Robin stared at Alice.

She had not expected this.

It was another gift Alice made for her and what did Robin gave her? A stupid bracelet last month. She had to pick up on her game of being a good girlfriend.

Impatiently Alice nodded her head towards the package which Robin silently held. "Come on. Open it!"

Ripping off the package, Robin enfolded the brown paper with shaking hands and a soft flutter coursing through her stomach. Soon, she revealed what appeared to be an engraved round aluminum sign.

Turning it around, Robin saw an oval, green logo, a writing of her name in white, which looked as it was printed with a typewriter, a magnifying glass enlarged the letters P and I in the middle. Beneath her name the rest of the words Private and Investigator appeared much smaller.

 _Robin Mills, Private Investigator_ , the sign read.

     

"You did this?" Robin whispered struck by wonder.

"Mary helped me press and cut it. She is much more skilled with plastic art than me. I only drew the draft and painted it."

"That's so sweet," Robin uttered lowly, pressing out words that her clenching heart almost caged in. Her knees grew weak and when she finally was read to raise her eyes to look at her girlfriend she saw her happy smile and eyes glinting in a crystal clear azure.

A shaky sigh left Robin's lungs and a smile stretched over her lips.

Her girlfriend was seriously amazing. But unlike last time with the painting Robin had something she could give or tell Alice in return. Not that it was a competition. Robin just wanted to make sure Alice was as happy with her as she was with Alice.

"I have a surprise for you, too," she said and walked over to the fridge beneath the counter and sent Alice a smirk and eye wiggle before pulling the door wide open. "A stock for sunny and rainy days!"

"Oh!" Gasping Alice jumped from the table and stared at the content of the fridge agape. "It's even my favorite brand!"

"I know." Robin ginned as her girlfriend stared at the fifty glasses of orange marmalade lining up and shining like thousands suns in their cold environment but not as bright as Alice's eyes. "I figured since you eat a lot takeaway, when you are busy, you could come here and well, eat. Saves you time when we meet here."

"Thank you, Robin! That's amazing!" Alice jumped towards Robin, winding her arms around her.

"No problem," Robin huffed into her shoulder, thinking how this reaction was worth the import fee a million times.

After a cup of coffee and Robin giving Alice a tour – which actually did not take as half as much time as the coffee because really it was just the table, the counter and a still empty cupboard in the back – they left Robin’s new part time office, where she herself was the boss. She had yet to see, though, if she was a less evil employer than her aunt.

The sun was already beginning to set.

The half sunken plate drenched the sky in pinkish and orange colors. With a smile Robin turned to see Alice’s reaction.

Instead of the happy glint and a white row of teeth spread into a grin, Robin hoped to witness, she saw Alice’s face drop and eyes widen.

Frowning Robin put a hand on the blonde’s wrist.

Alice froze.

In total.

Stopping in the middle of Phinney Avenue.

“Alice?” Robin tried, unsure what was going on. Her eyes fleeted over the face of the other woman searching for some kind of recognition.

Like a bombshell a horn blared on the right side of them.

Robin pulled Alice aside, away from the honking car which now drove by in slithering curve.

“Oh my god,” she breathed and looked at her girlfriend again. “Alice? Are you okay?”

She watched Alice gulp, her throat stretching and relaxing. The haunted, misted gaze disappeared slowly ans she finally met Robin’s eyes.

“Yes, sorry,” Alice shook her head and forced a smile. “Just being followed by shadows.”

“This does not make me worry less about you now. What shadows?"

“You don’t have to worry. I don’t want to be a bother,” Alice said and bit her lip.

“Alice, you’ll never be a bother.” Folding her fingers around Alice’s arm, Robin hoped to give her some sense of security.

“You haven’t seen all parts of me,” Alice murmured.

“And I am looking forward to see them. All of them!”

“Not all of my colors are bright.”

“Whose really are?” Robin scoffed and swallowed hard for her throat tightened at the idea what she was about to say. “Alice, I wanna be happy with you but I also want to help you carry your burdens, if you let me.”

Alice nodded, a shy smile curved one corner of her lips. Her eyes glazed over with tears. “Fine, but this is nothing to worry about.” She continued to walk into the direction of Robin’s and Henry’s apartment with boots grinding over the pavement. Alice buried her hands in the pockets of her shirtwaist dress. “Sometimes I imagine that I am being watched. It is only a feeling and it stops after a while. Perhaps I should consult a therapist.”

“If that would make you feel better,” Robin offered with a shrug of her shoulder.

“I had to take pills. Once. They made me sleepy. I had not needed them for a long time now. Do you know Van Gogh?”

“The Cut-off-his-own-ear artist?” Robin asked and cringed immediately, hoping she did not insult Alice in any way.

“Yep, he was mentally ill and took medication but he never healed,” Alice looked away, across the street as they almost reached Robin’s home and Robin wondered what she was seeing. “He shot himself with a revolver and died the next day. He was mostly unsuccessful for the things he achieved in his life but became famous for how he suffered and for the way he died.”

Robin shook her head. Hard. She grabbed Alice’s hand and entwined their fingers. “Alice, you are not sick and you are not broken. That’s not how you’re going to end up.”

“Perhaps not.” When they reached the building they stopped in front the door and Alice’s face broke into a grin. “Although it would make you rich. You have an original Alice Jones upstairs after all.”

“I prefer being happy over being rich,” Robin said and raised Alice’s hand to her lips. “How about we go upstairs? I am in need of a shower and you could talk with my geeky cousin about art and writing. Just do not talk about more suicide romantics. It seems to have been a thing.”

“That would be wonderful. To go upstairs that is,” Alice chirped and her eyes cleaned up. Their happy glow had returned to them.

“Great.” Smirking Robin unlocked the door and let her girlfriend enter the building first.

As fast as she possibly could Robin showered while Alice was at Henry’s mercy. Robin hoped he would not say something stupid or spill a can of embarrassment beans about the past few months of living together – sadly he had caught her in flagrante at one of her lower moments when she had experienced a snack attack in the middle of the night, soiling herself with chocolate ice cream.

This idea was not as unnerving though as the moment earlier when Alice had looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

She worried about Alice.

Shadows.

Robin wondered how it felt to not know what was real and what was not. As she stood beneath the hot spray of the shower, she let her forehead rest against the cold white tiles. Cascades of water washed over her closed eyelids.

She’d never been with someone as sensitive as Alice was. She had no idea how to help her chase away her shadows.

Shaking her head she opted for finishing to clean herself.

She would be there for Alice no matter what. If that was the only thing she was able to do to help her, she would do it.

After putting on her comfort sweats and her favorite and not so shabby leisure shirt, Robin opened the door to the living room expecting to hear the art nerds to talk about their respective turf.

As she wrapped a towel around her head she heard Henry utter in a strained voice,

“Down right. Another wave.”

“Got it!” Alice chirped.

Henry laughed. “Some killer moves you have, Huntress.”

Robin frowned and threw her head back listening closer.

“Thank you, Barbs,” the cheery voice of her girlfriend replied.

The hell?

Robin gasped and pulled a face.

Barbs?!

Why the hell was Alice calling Henry Barbs?

Robin grabbed her things and threw her discarded clothes into the laundry basket.

Walking into the living room, she resolved the mystery when she looked at the crime scene: There in front of Henry’s small TV both sat, game pads inside their hands and eyes locked on the screen trapped in a game Robin unfortunately recognized in a blink of an eye.

From all the things she expected Henry to do to Alice, she would not have thought he would make her play a round of Diablo III with him.

At least Robin understood now, why Alice had called Henry barbs. He was playing the barbarian, a class of the game.

That was kinda reassuring.

With a sigh she approached her girlfriend and her cousin.

“Seriously, Henry? It’s 2018,” she snarled walking over to the couch.

“You never want to play the game with me.” Henry pouted and skipped his fawn eyes at her shortly before focusing his sight on the game where another wave of monsters attacked him and Alice.

“I played it with you,” Robin huffed sitting down onto the couch and automatically slid into the sat-in hollow she detested with passion. “Four times.”

“But it is a new season with class specific rewards!” Henry complained while punching buttons with vigor.

“It’s just a game,” Robin responded while trying to ignore how enraptured her girlfriend next to her was in the game instead of taking notice of her.

“It is an artwork. Have you ever watched the cut scenes?!”

“Pfft.”

“I like it,” Alice finally said. “The cut scenes are really beautiful and it’s fun. Look, Robin, what I can do!” Alice pressed a button on her pad and the unrealistically big chested and wide hipped female figure in red started swirling around, shooting dozens of arrows in all directions and laughed.

As she looked at happy Alice and her the cheery laughter filled Robin warming her to the core she felt as if all of the arrows pierced her own heart.

Art...

Art was everywhere.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Lyrics in the beginning are part of a song by Kygo & Imagine Dragons - “Born To Be Yours”  
> 2) Phinney Avenue – Street in Greenwood, Seattle.  
> 3) Van Gough – I had some issues with this scene. Who is to decide what’s normal anyway? However, as mental illness is an important subject to me, I wanted to represent it in a substituent way.  
> 4) Romantic suicide – Not going into detail but it actually is/was a thing and there were quite few poets, musicians, artists etc. who lived up to or rather died for this ideal in history. It’s... I don’t know. Motifs connected to this: The tormented artist and the romantic hero.  
> 5) Diablo III – is a dungeon crawler action role playing game of 2012. In Once Upon A Time s3ep12 Henry played Diablo III while living with Emma in NYC. Also I’ve put this into the story video games are not taken seriously but there are some that are true art (Diablo III in my opinion not so much but I know people who adore this game).  
> Right now they are like the novels in the 18th century, not considered art and something for a marginalized group (in case of the novel it was women FIY). So let’s wait 100+ years, shall we?^^ Anyway, having a writer and an artist playing a video game, which combines aesthetics with story felt just right and fit the characters more than using a movie. Well, I’d say. ;)


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